


The Beat of Disillusion

by capeofstorm



Series: The Beat of Disillusion [1]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Asphyxiation, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/pseuds/capeofstorm
Summary: At MI6's insistence Alex goes back to Scorpia once again. This time, he's going to get what he wants, even if he's surrounded by people he can't trust.This work was originally written for spy_fest 2011. This version has been edited for grammar/spelling; new scenes were added.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Series: The Beat of Disillusion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886632
Comments: 27
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kennahijja (Hijja)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hijja/gifts).



> This was written before Scorpia Rising came out and I played around with the timeline, making Alex 17. This work is complete but I'm editing bits of it as I go. I'm aiming to have it all finished and posted by mid-August.
> 
> If it helps you any, this fic's Yassen is inspired by Damian Lewis' portrayal.

**July 2004**

Alex sat in an old wooden chair, blood dripping slowly from his broken nose down his lips and chin. His hands were bound by duct tape, his arms resting over the back of the chair, crossed at his wrists. He looked straight at the camera, at the people behind it. He knew what he had to do and he didn’t want to take any more time. He opened his mouth, a little hoarse cough escaping him.

“My name is Alex Rider. I’m seventeen years old. For the past three years I have been spying for the British government against my will,” his voice was steady and dead. 

**June 2004**

There were days when Alex Rider wondered how he ever got to live to see his seventeenth birthday. Jack, sensing his dark mood, didn’t insist on a huge celebration. They had Alex’s favourite for dinner after he came back from school and sat together through the latest comedy film. They both knew that neither of them was watching it but acknowledging it would mean acknowledging something else, too – Alex was broken. Finally the missions and deaths had proven to be too much for him and all the fight and spirit had left him. His friends noticed the change in him but chalked it up to him being himself. Tom kept on asking what was wrong, hinting that he knew it had something to do with Alex’s “secret life of spying“ until Alex snapped and told him to stay out of it. Tom hadn’t asked about it since and they started drifting apart. He was going through the motion of his days mechanically, putting a fake smile on his face whenever Jack tried to get him to smile.

He finally managed to finish a full semester at school. His teachers were rather surprised at that, as was Alex himself. He started wondering whether MI6 finally left him alone. He hadn’t heard from them ever since he came back from his mission in Iran. They debriefed him and that was that. Jack was starting to relax, no longer tensing whenever the phone rang or someone knocked at the door but Alex couldn’t share her optimism. He knew that if they needed him, the MI6 would come back to dangle a carrot in front of him and beat him with their stick if he refused to cooperate.

Alex sighed and ran his hand through his blond hair. It was getting too long, Jack insisted, he needed to cut it. She promised she would do that after she came back with groceries. Alex lay back on his bed and resumed staring at the ceiling. He could hear a car pass by through his open window. June was exceptionally hot this year, the air heavy and dry as Alex inhaled. He left his windows open whenever he could, hoping for a breeze. He remembered Jack saying that July would continue in the same matter; she complained about the withering yellow grass when the council forbade watering their gardens. 

He tried taking in a deep breath and nearly choked on the dry air. His mind went back to one of his older missions, the one in Kenya and he closed his eyes. He remembered not being able to catch his breath as he dangled above the crocodiles, the way his lungs contracted and expanded furiously, the way his hands were becoming slick with sweat, the strain in his arms as he tried to support his weight and hold on a little longer – 

The door shut with a bang, startling Alex from his memories. He gulped as he listened to Jack swear at the bag that ripped, spilling all the groceries in their foyer. He dried his clammy hands on his bed sheets and hoisted himself to sit on the edge of his bed. He grabbed the T-shirt that lay draped over his chair and put it on to go downstairs.

He walked down the stairs and bent down at the end of the stairs to pick up a can of tomatoes that rolled away from Jack’s spilled groceries.

She looked up, her hair plastered to her forehead, the rest sticking all over the place. 

She gave him a tired grin and continued picking up the vegetables.

“Thanks, sweetie. Fruit salad for dinner and ice cream for dessert?”

“Sure, sounds good.”

Alex took the vegetables from her and went to put them in the kitchen. Jack brought in the rest of the bags and put them by the counter. She dropped into the chair and tried to blow her hair away from her forehead. The sweat made it stick but she didn’t give up. Alex watched her huffing and puffing and knew she was doing this for his benefit. He gave a weak laugh, his finger pointing to her forehead.

“You might want to chop that off if the weather continues.”

Jack made an offended face.

“No way. This hair is my signature! Speaking about that, how about I cut your hair now?”

Alex shrugged his shoulders which Jack took for a yes. She knew how to interpret each and every shrug of his shoulders and that was how he communicated with people lately. He leaned against the sink, the metal edge digging into his back, feeling cool even though his T-shirt.

Jack eyed him critically, her eyes taking in his messy hair, the crinkled black T-shirt, his favourite baggy basketball shorts and his bare feet. Her hand came to brush the hair off her forehead and she yawned widely.

“Gimmie the scissors. This weather makes me so sleepy, I think we’re due for a nap before dinner.”

Alex pushed away from the sink, walked towards the drawer that held scissors. He pulled them out, the metal glinting invitingly in the sun pouring through the window. He looked at them for a second too long and turned back to face Jack, holding the scissors by the tip, handing them out to her. She took them from him carefully, her eyes telling him she noticed his preoccupation. Neither of them mentioned it aloud as Alex sat down in the chair by the one that Jack has occupied just seconds before. Jack grabbed the closest cloth and put it around Alex’s neck, pushing the edges into his T-shirt.

“Now stay still. You wouldn’t be as dashing with only one ear.”

Alex made an agreeable sound in the back of his throat, his mind going blank. He could hear the scissors snipping at the hair at the back of his head, Jack’s hands steady in contrast to her teasing. She has done this many times before, always nagging Alex and Ian to get their hair cut before it started to look messy. Alex remembered his uncle laughing and replying her once that it was the Rider family trademark. He closed his eyes briefly at the memory. He opened them just as Jack moved the scissors in front of his face to trim his fringe. He tensed involuntarily, his right hand going up to grab at Jack’s hand before he had the chance to think of it.

“Alex.”

Alex looked at Jack’s wrist in his hand, the scissors held securely in her fingers. He swallowed and couldn’t tear his eyes away from the redness that started forming between where his fingers were clenched on Jack’s wrist. She was looking at him steadily with sorrow and sympathy, he noted once he looked up. He thought he saw fear there as well but he dismissed that thought quickly. This was Jack, he had nothing to fear from her.

That’s when it hit him. This was Jack. He let go of her wrist as if she had burned him. 

Jack’s other hand came up to cup his jaw as she spoke to him softly,

“It’s okay. Let me finish trimming your hair and you can go lie down, okay?”

Alex nodded and closed his eyes. He could feel Jack looking at him for a few seconds before she started snipping at his fringe again, the sound of scissors a scratchy rhythmic sound in his ears. He concentrated on breathing evenly. This was Jack. She wouldn’t hurt him. She was just cutting his hair, as she has done many times before, ever since she started taking care of him.

He heard her put the scissors down on the table. She untucked the cloth from his T-shirt and swiped at it to get rid of the hair that clung to it. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed briefly.

“You’re good to go. Looking good there, Rider, if I can say so myself.”

Alex nodded his thanks and got up from the chair without meeting her eyes. He was halfway through the stairs when the phone rang and Jack answered. 

“Hello?”

He knew what was coming. Her silence was too long for a normal call. She looked at Alex and held the phone to him.

“It’s for you.”

*

Alex stood in front of the MI6 headquarters, Jack at his side. Mr. Blunt had politely requested Alex’s presence for the following day and here he was. Obeying his master’s orders like a good dog.

Jack took his arm, her fingers resting on his forearm as they walked into the building. They were blasted with cold air from the air conditioning, goose bumps erupting all over Alex’s skin. They were stopped by the receptionist on their way to the elevator.

“Can I help you?”

“Alex Rider to see Mr. Blunt.”

The woman smiled, nodding her blond head.

“Certainly. He’s waiting for you. Why won’t your companion have a seat while you go up to meet him?”

Alex looked at Jack who nodded and let go of his arm.

“It was worth a shot. I’ll be here when you come down.”

He turned around and walked towards the elevator. The door slid just as he reached out to push the button. Mrs. Jones smiled at him and gestured to the spot beside her.

“Great timing, Alex. It’s nice to see you.”

He said nothing as he got in the elevator, standing beside Mrs. Jones. Even though the weather was unbearable she was wearing her usual suit. The smell of peppermints assaulted him and made him turn his face slightly to the side, hoping he wouldn’t have to inhale it.

Mrs. Jones didn’t mind his silence, it seemed. She was looking him over, her eyes full of concern. 

“I know you don’t want to do this, Alex...”

He was saved from replying by the ding of the elevator. The door slid open and he stepped out without waiting for Mrs. Jones. He moved in the direction of Blunt’s office, intent on getting this over with as soon as possible. He could hear the click of Mrs. Jones’ sensible shoes as she followed him. He reached Blunt’s office and pulled the door open without knocking. 

Alan Blunt looked even more grey than usual. His glare was just as strong as he looked up to see who interrupted him without knocking.

“Ah, Mr. Rider. Come in, why don’t you.”

Alex came in and sat in one of the chairs in front of Blunt’s desk. Mrs. Jones took the other one. Blunt grimaced and put away the papers he was reading.

“Take a seat, by all means.”

Alex started at him, unimpressed. They needed his help this time, they could handle a little attitude, Jack had told him. The silence was stretching between the three of them. 

Blunt cleared his throat when it became obvious that Alex wouldn’t be the first to speak.

“You look... well.”

Alex snorted.

“I look like hell. What do you want?”

“We need your expertise, Alex. There’s a situation in Cairo that we need you to take care of.” It was Mrs. Jones who answered his question while Blunt stared him down.

“And if I don’t agree you’ll send me to orphanage and deport Jack, as usual?”

Mrs. Jones shifted uncomfortably in the chair next to his. Alex was still staring at Blunt, waiting for the man to crack.

“This will be the last one, Alex,” Mrs. Jones started.

“As were the five before this one,” he retorted, looking at her angrily.

“Should you complete the mission successfully, we will grant you full emancipation, Mr. Rider.”

He turned sharply to look at Blunt. This was something new.

“Full emancipation?”

“Yes. Along with a comfortable sum to be deposited into your bank account, to be done with as you please.”

Alex raised his eyebrow, his tone clearly doubtful. “Really, Mr. Blunt? That’s generous of you.”

Blunt inclined his head, his hands coming to rest on his table, the right palm covering the left one.

“How can I know you are telling the truth? That it’s not some kind of a trick on your part?”

“We provided Miss Starbright with an extended visa as we promised, did we not?”

Alex nodded his head. He thought back to all those years ago, when Jack wanted to take him and move to US to live closer to her parents. She hoped it would make their lives easier, that he would be able to be a normal schoolboy again, she said. 

“We might make wrong decisions sometimes, Alex, but we deliver on our promises.”

Alex laughed at Mrs. Jones’ statement.

“Like when you promise me to come and rescue me and you don’t, you mean?”

She had the grace to look away from him after his pronouncement.

“What’s the mission?”

“As Mrs. Jones said, a situation in Cairo. There are some anti-British stirrings over there and we are afraid that terrorists might be targeting high standing British politicians. We need you to infiltrate and bring us their plans. That’s all. No heroics, no saving the world. Simple information gathering.” Blunt gazed at him over the top of his glasses.

“If it’s simple information gathering then why won’t you send someone else?”

Now it was Blunt’s turn to look away from Alex’s gaze.

“Because it’s Scorpia.”

Alex furrowed his brows, his hands tightening painfully on the arms of the chair he sat on.

“I thought Scorpia was... disbanded?”

“Not – quite,” Blunt’s hesitation made Alex tense. “They reformed and are said to be planning something big to reassure their position in the criminal world.”

“There’s a problem with your plan. Scorpia wants to kill me. I’m sure you remember that.”

Mrs. Jones stood up and went to the filing cabinet. She took out a thin file and gave it to Alex, who noticed Blunt glaring at her as she did so.

“We believe they are under new management. Zeljan Kurst has a partner and that partner is an unknown. We have our suspicions but none of them were confirmed. What they need is an ally and you are the best choice for that.”

Alex looked through the thin file. It contained three pages, one of them with the description of the new partner.

_Caucasian male in his late thirties, early forties. Medium high, average built. Hair colour unknown. No known names or aliases. Profession: unknown. Skills: unknown. Known associates: Zeljan Kurst. ___

__That was helpful, Alex thought. He looked through the remaining two pages, both of which were reports of sighting of the man along with Kurst in Paris and Bogota. That was it._ _

__He was really unimpressed._ _

__“You want to send me in dark to people who want to kill me, hoping they will believe I am rebelling against you? That’s a weak plan, even for you.”_ _

__Blunt looked like he sucked on a sour lemon drop. His nostrils flared as he responded, “It is quite known that you dislike us. We will send the lovely Miss Starbright to the States, where you can join her after you successfully complete the mission. We will make it known she is being deported, thus leaving you without care. Social workers will be arranged to come and pick you up. You will escape from them and go looking for Scorpia. London is full of contacts, I am sure you will be able to get in touch with them. They are probably on the lookout for you as we speak.”_ _

__Alex closed the file and put it on Blunt’s table. He looked around the room, contemplating what he was told. He knew it was more risky – and stupid – than before. This was a suicide mission if he wouldn’t be able to convince Kurst and his partner that he was honest. There were too many variables that could go wrong, Alex knew._ _

__But ever since he stepped into this office he felt like his old self. He was scheming already, contemplating what could go wrong, what could go right. He knew the promise of full emancipation was what sold him to the idea and they had to deliver on that promise, he couldn’t think otherwise, even though he knew better._ _

__Besides, if the mission indeed proved to be a suicide mission, then it wasn’t bad, either. Jack would mourn him but she would move on and be free. Tom and Sabina would remember him from time to time as they moved on with their lives. Those were all the people that would care. He knew that to the people who were in the room with him he was nothing but another pawn. His file would be moved to the filing cabinet and rest beside his father’s and uncle’s files and that would be the end of the story._ _

__“It will take some time and some convincing but I should be able to do it. How will I contact you?”_ _

__Blunt shook his head. “You won’t need to. We have someone close to Kurst, they will report back to us with your progress.”_ _

__Alex scoffed. What game were they playing this time?_ _

__“If you have someone there then how come your file on that mysterious partner is nearly blank?”_ _

__“They aren’t as close to the source as we would like. Which is where you come in.”_ _

__Alex nodded his head._ _

__“How do I contact them?”_ _

__“You don’t. Don’t worry; they will know to be on the lookout for you.”_ _

__Alex opened his mouth to argue but Blunt beat him to it._ _

__“No, it’s for both your and our spy’s protection. Don’t argue with me, Mr. Rider.”_ _

__He closed his mouth and turned down his lips in distaste. He stood up from the chairs and leaned over the desk._ _

__“I want the emancipation papers, my passport and a ticket to US when you come to get me. I will be leaving right then.”_ _

__Blunt nodded his head. “Splendid. Mrs. Jones will show you out. Do say hello to Miss Starbright.”_ _

__“When am I to meet with Smithers?”_ _

__“You won’t,” Mrs. Jones gestured towards the door. “Since you’re running away from us, you wouldn’t have had a chance to get anything from here.”_ _

__Alex looked from her to Blunt, his hands balling into fists. He knew they had very little regard for his life but this was taking the cake._ _

__“No support? No weapons? Are you joking me? You’re sending me to certain death!”_ _

__“It is possible, yes,” Blunt said in a calm tone._ _

__“Alan!” Mrs. Jones exclaimed, her face a mask of shock._ _

__“But you are a patriot, Alex, aren’t you? Like your uncle? He gave his life for this country gladly. I don’t think he would be proud of you if you refused to do the same.”_ _

__Alex didn’t pay attention to Mrs. Jones’ admonition of Blunt. He wanted to punch the smarmy git but held back. It wouldn’t do him any good to take his anger on Blunt, he was too afraid to lose the emancipation papers. He gritted his teeth, relaxed his fists, feeling the indentations his fingernails left in the soft flesh of his palms._ _

__“Indeed,” he spat, turned around and headed for the door._ _

__He walked out, his hands itching to slam the door in his wake but he resisted. Mrs. Jones followed him and stood beside him as they waited for the elevator._ _

__“I will make sure you will get the papers, Alex, whether you’re successful or not. I owe it to your father,” she said, her voice soft._ _

__Alex ignored her again. He got into the elevator and stared at his reflection in the golden walls. He was breathing quickly, his cheeks flushed with anger. He startled when he saw his eyes, they were positively thunderous. He couldn’t help but think he looked alive, for the first time in many months._ _

__What the hell was wrong with him?_ _


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Jack wasn’t happy with the plan was an understatement. She rounded up on him as soon as they came back home. She was agitated ever since she saw him exit the elevator, his posture screaming of anger. It was the first real emotion from him in a long while and it worried Jack. She tried asking him what was wrong on the way home but he wouldn’t say a thing.

“You’re walking into a trap, Alex. It’s not too late to back out. Please.”

She kept on pacing through the living room, her eyes pleading with him to stay, to say no. She was afraid for him. He was already on a brink of something terrible and she was afraid that this mission would only push him further down, further away from her reach. She might be his housekeeper, nanny, guardian, what-you-want but she always loved him as her own child. It was difficult not to. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have stayed with the family so long. Her staying had also something to do with Ian, true, but mostly it was for Alex.

“It’s our only chance, Jack. The emancipation papers... Once we get to the States I can get a new identity. I’ll disappear from their radar and we can have a normal life. Isn’t that what you want?” Alex pleaded, trying to get her to understand.

Jack threw her hands in the air.

“You will never have a normal life, Alex. Not anymore.”

Her statement was met with silence. Jack’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with panic and regret.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Alex, I’m sorry -”

He stood up from the couch he sat on and shook his head.

“Don’t be. We both know it’s true. I think I need some time alone.”

He left the room before she had the chance to reply. He ran up the stairs and closed the door to his room behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in his hands. He took in deep breaths, trying to clear his mind. He knew Jack didn’t mean to say it. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the fact that there was something not quite right with him and his life. They tried to pretend otherwise but now finally the truth was out. Even if he completed the mission successfully and moved to the States his life would be far from normal. Which teenager was plagued by nightmares about people who tried to kill him, about people who died for him?

 _You’re a regular Harry Potter,_ he remembered Tom had teased him once.

He laughed hoarsely and soon his laughter changed into sobs. He started shaking, his breaths coming in gasps. He was unable to get enough air and he knew he was hyperventilating and panicking but he couldn’t do anything about that. He felt Jack’s arms around his as she cradled him and rocked him back and forth, talking to him. He could hear her voice but her words made no sense. He concentrated on her voice and tried committing it to his memory, just in case. Just in case.

*

He woke up to a darkened bedroom. His head hurt and he felt really thirsty. He noticed the glass of water on the bed stand and drank it in a few gulps. He closed his eyes as he remembered his breakdown earlier. Jack was right, he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready but it was okay either way. It was better that way. He looked at his clock and noticed it was just after ten pm. He must have been out for a while, then. He got up and went down to the living room where Jack was sitting in front of the TV, watching a rerun of a sitcom.

He cleared his throat and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Sit with me, Alex.” She patted the seat beside her.

He moved obediently to sit down. She didn’t turn to look at him and kept her eyes looking at the TV.

“I’m scared for you. You’ve been through too much. I can’t help but want to protect you even though I know I can’t do a jack’s ass about it.”

“Jack – ”

“No, don’t interrupt me.” She shook her head. “This is the last mission, Alex. You are going to give them what they want and then you are going to join me. You have to, you hear me?”

Alex nodded and moved his hand to cover hers. She turned her palm over and covered his hand with hers, trapping it between her hands.

“This is the last resort, Alex. You have to succeed. If you don’t…” Jack hesitated, cleared her throat. “If you don’t then I will come back for you. I don’t care about Blunt and all of them. I will come back for you and take you home with me. They can do whatever they want but this is the last time you work for them. I want you to be as safe as you can be.”

He was taking her in. Memorizing her words, the way her hands felt as they held his hand, the little calluses she had at the base of her fingers, the way her hair stood up on her head, the colour bright and so Jack. He wanted to remember her like this, so fierce and protective of him, so full of love for him even though he did nothing but inconvenience her.

“It’s best this way, Jack.”

She started saying something but bit it back. One of her hands came to pull his head down in her lap. He followed her and lay down, one of his hands cushioned under his cheek, on Jack’s thigh. She started running her hands through his hair, both of them looking at the TV and taking comfort in each other’s presence. 

Alex couldn’t remember his mother but as he lay with his head cradled in Jack’s lap, her fingers combing his hair gently, listening to her breathing, he thought that this was what taking comfort from a mother must feel like.

*

They were woken up by the doorbell. Alex was lying down with this head still in Jack’s lap, neither of them having moved from their positions from last night. They must have fallen asleep at some point during the infomercials.

Jack put a hand on Alex’s cheek, caressing it gently. He pulled himself off her lap and sat on the couch. She got up, ready to answer the door but hesitated for a second. She looked like she wanted to say something but then shook her head and instead bent down to kiss his forehead. She straightened up and moved to open the door.

Alex knew what was coming; he was preparing himself for it ever since he learned of Blunt’s plan. He hoisted himself up from the couch and went to join Jack. She stood by the open door and spoke to two women. One was Black and wearing a police uniform and the other was white and wearing a grey business suit. It was early morning, the last day of June, and the heat was picking up already.

“May we come in, Miss Starbright? I’m Officer Kavanagh, this is Ms. Spicer from the Home Office.” The police officer motioned to the other woman.

Jack nodded her head and moved to the side.

“Please come in. Can I at least pack my bags?”

Kavanagh looked surprised at that, clearly unaware that Jack knew what was coming. Spicer nodded as she entered the house.

“Of course. But please hurry up. Your plane is leaving in three hours and we still need to go through some paperwork before that.” She cut a look at Alex, her lips pulling into an apologetic smile.

Jack walked past him without sparing him a glance. He nodded at the two women and went to the kitchen. He took a glass from one of the shelves and filled it with tap water. He turned around to see Kavanagh enter the kitchen and look at him.

“Is there anyone you can stay with?”

Alex shook his head and brought the glass to his lips. He drank the water, put the glass in the sink and crossed his arms across his chest.

“She’s my guardian. The rest of the family’s dead.”

Kavanagh brought her hand to scratch at the back of her neck. She grimaced as she looked around the kitchen.

“I’ll have to call the social services, you know?”

“No need, I already have,” Spicer spoke from behind her. “I knew Ms. Starbright was looking after a dependent.”

She entered the kitchen and looked at Alex with sympathy.

“They should be here soon. Why won’t you go and pack an overnight bag with things you want with you?”

He nodded and moved to walk past them. He could hear them talk quietly about him as he walked up the stairs. He moved to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush and comb. Jack’s things were already gone from the counter. He looked towards her room, seeing the open door but decided not to push it. He went into his room, hauled a backpack from under his bed and threw his toothbrush and comb in it. He went to his wardrobe and took out a few T-shirts, a few pairs of shorts and jeans. He took a few pairs of clean underwear and socks from his drawer and put them in his bag. He turned to see Jack stand in his doorway, her bag on the floor.

She walked up to him and dropped something into his bag. He looked at her questioningly and she shook her head.

“I’ll get you some money from downstairs.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do,” she said as she left her room.

He looked into his bag and saw a cell phone. It was an old model, silver and red flip phone. He furrowed his brows and took it out, flipping the cover open. He scrolled through the phone book, noticing Jack’s parents’ phone number was there. As was Smithers’.

Alex smiled to himself and put the phone back in his backpack. Smithers must have given it to Jack yesterday at the bank. Smart man.

Alex zipped his bag and left it in his room. He went downstairs where Jack was counting the money for him. Kavanagh had Jack’s bag in her hand, clearly impatient to go. Jack held the money out to him.

“A thousand pounds. In case of emergency. Don’t spend it all on computer games, okay?”

Alex took the money from her, rolled it and put it in his pocket. It was bulging out awkwardly. He knew Jack dipped into her savings to give him the money. The MI6 might not have given him any weapon but the money Jack gave him was more than enough to buy a gun on the streets, he was sure.

“We have to go. The social services are here.”

There was a knock at the door and Spicer went to open it. Alex looked at Jack and cleared his throat.

“So... I guess this is goodbye then?”

Jack nodded, her eyes suddenly full of tears. She walked up to Alex and enveloped him in a tight hug. His arms moved to lock around her and he hid his face in her shoulder, not willing to show his tears to the other people in the house. His hands clenched on her shirt and she combed his hair with her fingers. They stood like that for a few minutes until Kavanagh cleared her throat.

“We really have to go.”

Jack nodded, still holding him. She moved so that her mouth was right by his ear as she whispered, “Give him a call, he will help you. You can do this. I will be waiting for you. I love you, Alex.”

“I love you, too,” he mumbled to her as she let go of him.

She took his face in her hands and wiped the tears that escaped him. She gave him a smile and sniffed.

“It’s for the best.”

He nodded and stepped away from her. He wiped at his eyes and looked around. A tired looking woman joined Kavanagh and Spicer. She looked at the scene with sympathy.

“We must go as well, Alex.”

He nodded as he watched Jack walk towards the door. He had to see her walk out that door, had to know that this part of his life was over, no matter what came next. Jack turned around as she crossed the door and looked at him one last time. He tried to smile for her, so she would remember. Just in case.

Jack brought her hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss. He mimed catching it, as he did back when he was eight and Jack would walk him to his school. He pressed his closed fist against his chest, watching Jack get into the squad car. Kavanagh closed the door and Alex turned to look at the social worker.

“My bag is upstairs. I’ll go get it.”

“Why don’t I go with you, check that all the windows are closed before we lock up?”

Alex nodded his head and led the way upstairs. He grabbed his backpack and was ready to leave his room when he remembered something. He went back to his wardrobe and took out a light jacket. Nights in Cairo could get cold, no need to suffer without having to. This time he would be prepared.

He stuffed the jacked into his bag. He took out the money Jack gave him from his pocket and put half of it in the backpack and stuffed half of it in his sock. The social worker looked at him with a smile and shook her head. Alex shrugged and moved to close his window. She stretched out her hand and gestured to the door.

“Let’s go then, if you have everything.”

Alex put his backpack on and walked in front of the woman. He walked down the stairs and out to the foyer. He picked up the keys from the table and walked out of the door. He waited for the social worker to follow him and he locked the door. He slid the keys into his pocket and looked at the house he grew up in for the last time.

*

Escaping the social worker was ridiculously easy. 

Alex wondered if she was told she was supposed to let him go but then decided against it. She looked outraged as he jumped out of the car just seconds before the light turned green at the junction they were waiting at, his backpack clenched securely in his hands, and sprinted towards the path walk. He ran, pushing people to the sides, spinning around when he nearly ran into a post box. He saw an underground entrance and ran towards it. Once he was there he slowed down and tried to blend in. There was a big crowd leaving the underground and going back up and Alex followed them, hoping to lose his tail, should he have one.

He spotted a fairly crowded cafe and went in. He ordered a bagel and an iced tea and sat down with his back to the wall and his eyes on the windows. He watched people walk hurriedly past the cafe, their bodies glistening with sweat. The heat was picking up and as it neared noon it was getting worse. Alex knew he had to find somewhere to hide. He finished his bagel and sipped his tea. He put his backpack on his lap and opened it. He fished for the phone and took it out.

He was going to dial Smithers’ number before he thought better of it. He opened a blank text message and started typing.

_R u free 2 talk?_

He sent the message and put the phone on the table. His eyes went back to scanning the crowds passing by the cafe. He gulped down the remains of his overly sweetened iced tea. He put the glass down and considered ordering another one when his phone vibrated.

_I’m at work now, sweetie. Will meet you at McDonald’s near your house at 5. Love, Uncle S xoxox_

Alex chuckled as he read the message. He had no idea where the nearest McDonald’s to his house was so he decided to head to an internet cafe. He got up from his seat and walked to the counter to pay for his meal and get a bottle of water.

“Do you know where the nearest internet cafe is?”

The barista smiled apologetically as she handed him his change.

“No, sorry. But there’s a library just around the corner, you can use a computer there.”

He didn’t have a membership card so that was not an option. He decided to walk around the neighbourhood in hopes of finding an internet cafe. He felt the hot, muggy air envelop him, sticking his T-shirt to his skin the moment he stepped out of the cafe.

It took him a few minutes of walking in the sweltering heat before he spotted an internet cafe logo. He walked into the darkened room; it had three rows of ten computers each. A young white guy with dreadlocks was sitting behind the counter, big earphones on his head. He looked extremely concentrated on something on the screen. Alex walked up to the counter and the guy pointed his finger without moving his eyes away from the screen,

“Number fifteen, mate. Fiver an hour.”

Alex walked towards the computer, sat down in the creaking chair and moved the mouse to turn on the screen, blinking rapidly as it woke up from sleep mode, bright light filling his vision. He went online, put his address and McDonalds in a search bar. He got a hit and clicked on the map.

He decided he might as well stay the full hour. He had everything he needed with him and it was quite possible the police were waiting for him at home in case he turned up there. It was nearly one o’clock, he had four hours to kill.

He sighed and accessed the Times. He scanned the webpage, full of the usual news. A scandal involving a royal family member, few articles about the environment, a few gossip pieces about celebrities. There was an article about new evidence in a murder case linked to the Prime Minister. Alex rolled his eyes.

He decided to check his email. He knew someone might be monitoring it and decided to leave the cafe as soon as he was done with it. He might as well just spend the time in an air conditioned McDonald’s, he thought. He signed in to his account and noticed a few messages from Sabina and Tom. There was an email from an account he didn’t know. He clicked on it, his brows furrowed in thought.

_They’re on the way to your location._

Alex stared at the message and noticed the time it was delivered. Two minutes before. He got up quickly, threw his backpack on his back and ran out from the shop. He heard the dreadlock guy shout after him but he didn’t pay it any attention. He felt the hair on his neck stand up as if someone was watching him. He tried getting lost in the crowd again but still the feeling persisted. He spotted a few cabs standing by the curb and dove into one of them. The cabbie looked at him through the rear mirror.

“Where to?”

Alex thought frantically. His house was out of the question, obviously. So was Sabina’s old place and Tom’s – he was visiting his brother in Italy anyway.

“Madame Tussauds,” he told the cabbie.

“Right so.”

Alex leaned back in his seat and tried to think who could have sent him that message. Was someone spying on him? Well, obviously they warned him someone was coming. The email address was a generic one, it told him nothing. He would have to ask Smithers about that. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He realised with a start that he felt good. No longer hollow or empty or not in the moment. He felt alive. He was in his element – running away from an unseen enemy, dodging tails, meeting up in secret with informants. God, there was something seriously wrong with him.

“Right-o. We’re here.”

Alex shook his head and took twenty pounds from his pocket.

“Keep the change.”

He got out of the cab and walked into the museum. It was filled with tourists, which was exactly what he wanted. He bought a ticket and went in. He spent the next hour walking around the museum, taking pictures of tourists when they asked him. He looked at his wristwatch and noticed it was nearly half past two. He still had some time to kill; he walked around the exhibitions once more.

It was half past three and Alex had had enough of wax sculptures. He walked out of the museum and went to the cab stand. He got into the first one and gave the driver the address of the McDonald’s where he would be meeting Smithers. The cabbie chatted at him, clearly unbothered to have an unresponsive passenger. Once they got there Alex paid and got out of the cab. He crossed the street and sighed with relief as he entered the air conditioned space.

He walked up to the counter and ordered a BigMac with Coke and fries. He sat down at one of the tables and inhaled the food. The heat wasn’t too conducive to eating but he didn’t know when his next meal would come. He took his time with his burger and fries and washed them down with the ice cold Coke. He sat back in his seat and relaxed his tense shoulders. He wondered what Cairo would bring. He tried not to think beyond that, beyond completing his mission. He didn’t know how he would handle that. If he would handle that.

He spent the next forty-five minutes staring at the people in the restaurant. He was hyper aware of his surroundings so it wasn’t a surprise to him when Smithers sat down in front of him and pushed an ice cream cup towards him.

“Eat, it’s good.”

Alex nodded and scooped a bit of ice cream, groaning with delight at the taste and coldness. He opened his eyes to find Smithers watching him, looking amused. He blushed and murmured an apology.

“Not at all, my boy. I understand.” Smithers waved his hand.

Alex cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Not at all. I’m glad the phone was helpful. And that you got out of that internet cafe before they came for you.“

Alex scooped another spoonful of the ice cream.

“So it was you that sent me the email?”

Smithers took a sip of his Coke before he replied.

“Not directly. Mina, an assistant of mine. Sweet girl, very loyal. Told her to track your phone’s GPS and contact you if she saw any of the active agents locking on to your location.”

Alex nodded his head and took another bite of his ice cream.

“Thanks for that. Saved my skin. But why would any of the agents want to locate me?”

Smithers sighed and put his Coke on the table. He leaned in closer to Alex. “They were told to bring you to a rendezvous point and make you meet with one of the moles who would pass you on to the Scorpia.”

Alex furrowed his brows.

“And that would be bad, why?”

“It wouldn’t. Blunt was afraid you’d pull a runner. He didn’t count on Miss Starbright giving you that much money. The agents were his insurance policy, if you will.”

“Sorry, Smithers, but it doesn’t make sense for you to help me escape them.”

The man laughed, making those near to them look their way. Alex put on a fake grin on his face as if he was enjoying the joke.

“I like you, Alex. And I’d rather you stay alive. I can’t give you anything besides the phone without arousing suspicion but I can tell you where to go to look for Scorpia.”

Alex played with his ice cream. This was weird, why was Smithers helping him? Well, that wasn’t weird, but why was he helping Alex to get away from Blunt?

“I was afraid our mole would deliver you to people who would kill you.” Smithers continued, as if he had read Alex’s mind. “That would also compromise the position of our man. I want to see you live through this, Alex, so I will help you. Alan Blunt made one bad decision too many.”

Alex nodded. He remembered Blunt’s parting words to him and felt the same rage he felt then. The man crossed the line one time too many.

“I just want out,” it slipped from his lips before he had the chance to hold it back.

Smithers looked at him closely and tipped his head to the side. Alex didn’t know if he came to some decision or simply agreed with Alex.

“I can take you to someone who might help you. And who will get you a weapon.”

“Alright.”

Smithers smiled and clapped his hands together. “Brilliant! Now finish up your ice cream and let’s go.”

*

Alex had to rethink the wisdom of following Smithers’ advice. 

The man to whom Smithers took him supplied Alex with a nice Glock G21 and said he could get him in touch with Scorpia, for a price of course. Alex paid the man three hundred pounds only to be tossed over the man’s shoulder and put in a boot of a car. They have been travelling for the past three hours and Alex was uncomfortable. The boot was roomy enough and at least he wasn’t bound.

But it was hot and he could feel each bump and he was thirsty. He suddenly remembered the water bottle he bought at the cafe in London and manoeuvred himself until he could reach his bag. He was panting with exertion by the time he opened the backpack and took the bottle out. He opened the cap and took a sip of the lukewarm water. It spilled out and trickled down the sides of his face and neck as they hit another hard bump. Alex sighed and resigned himself to his lot.

He was surprised when the man had simply picked him up over his shoulder, but his instincts were kicking in and he had been ready to attack when he had heard Smithers’ laugh. He was surprised that Smithers was still there. He told Alex not to struggle and to trust him. So Alex did. It was a bad habit of his, trusting people associated with MI6.

He brought his hand to wipe at his sweaty forehead. He tried to make out the numbers on his watch. It was eleven at night which would mean they were on the road for about four hours now, Alex counted. He had no idea which direction they were going in and it was driving him insane.

He was contemplating kicking at the lights but felt the car slow down and then stop. He could hear the traffic nearby. Something clicked near his head and then there was a sound of something being poured. It seemed they stopped for a quick gas refill. The guy tapped on the trunk twice and Alex punched the lid in answer. Yeah, he was still conscious.

“Don’t get out. I’ll get ya something to eat and give it to ya once we’re there. About an hour more. Got me?”

Alex punched the lid again. His cooperation was rather out of character for him but then again, so was Smithers’ help. There was something that didn’t quite fit there but he couldn’t put the pieces together.

He felt the car start again and closed his eyes. He might as well catch a few winks of sleep.

*

He woke up when the engine was turned off. He heard the driver get out of the car and walk around to the back. The boot popped open and Alex took quick gulps of air. The man laughed at him and handed him a packed sandwich.

“Here ya go, lad. Walk around a bit, stretch ya legs. I’m afraid yer gonna have to go back to the boot for the next few fours.”

Alex got out gingerly. He stretched his legs and back as he took in his surroundings.

“We’re on a ferry?”

“Yeah. Don’t have much time till I have to go back up so...”

Alex nodded and tore apart the sandwich packaging. He devoured it in a few bites and watched as the man smoked a cigarette.

“I’m fairly sure you can’t smoke here.”

The man laughed at him and threw the cigarette but on the ground, smashing it with his shoe.

“Yer going to meet Scorpia, mate, I’d worry about that.”

The man moved back to the front of the car and took a bottle of water from the passenger seat. He came back and handed it to Alex who took it with a nod of thanks.

“Get some sleep. The ship will leave the dock in two hours or so and we’ll be back on the road in about three hours after that. So that’s about five hours for ya.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Scorpia,” the man replied with a smirk.

Alex rolled his eyes.

“Yes, because you obviously are taking me to Cairo.”

“Who said Scorpia is in Cairo? Get in, I’ve got some people to bribe.”

Alex got back in, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Any hope for a pillow or something?”

The man shook his head and gestured towards Alex’s backpack.

“It ain’t the Ritz. You do with what you have.”

Alex barely managed to put his head down on his bag when the lid of the trunk was slammed down and the lock popped again. He took the disposable phone from the bag, scrolled through the numbers stored on the contact list. He didn’t know where he was heading or what to expect there. One thing he could do now was to memorise the numbers - Jack’s, her parents’, Smithers’ - in case he needed them later and his phone was out of commission. He mouthed each of the numbers to himself, closing his eyes to visualise the numbers in his mind until he was sure he could recite them without hesitating.

*

He woke up to the sound of multiple doors opening. He guessed it was time to leave the ferry. He wondered how long it would take for them to get to their destination. He was fairly sure they were going to Ireland. The distance they travelled would have made sense and the driver did have an Irish accent. He chuckled as he thought back to Blunt’s unreliable intel.

To his surprise they stopped after about an hour of driving. He heard the driver get out of the car and shout something. There was an answer back and the boot was opened. Alex blinked against the light. It was dawn and the sun was already up. He guessed it was around six o’clock and a glance at his watch confirmed that. He got out of the trunk, stretched his back and grabbed his backpack.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Sure thing, lad. Now come through.”

Alex looked at the two story house in front of him. It was surrounded by green trees but it was still obviously within the city limits. He followed the driver and tried to memorize what he saw. Who knew when it would help him.

He was ushered into the house and to a dining room right to the left of the entrance. A man in his early forties was sitting in a chair reading the morning paper, untouched eggs and toast still warm in front of him on the table. He folded the newspaper and put it down on the table beside his plate. He looked up at Alex and smiled.

“You’re just in time for breakfast. Would you like some?”

The man spoke with a British accent. It seemed a little forced, like it wasn’t natural.

Alex shook his head, hiding his surprise at the polite welcome. “No, thank you. Wouldn’t mind a glass of water, though.”

The man smiled and gestured towards one of the chairs.

“Please, sit down Alex. Bridget!“

An older woman entered the room and started speaking with the man. Alex sat down and spent the time looking at the man. His hair was the same golden colour as Alex’s but his eyes were dark, nearly black. It was a startling contrast and Alex felt that his eyes somehow didn’t fit the man’s face. It looked rather eerie, like an alien’s eyes. Alex shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was fairly sure he was in the presence of the mysterious Scorpia partner.

He obviously knew who Alex was. Given that he was Scorpia, this wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was just how courteous he was. Alex expected a few shoves and kicks, not a breakfast invitation when he arrived. Was it possible that the news of his escape from MI6 have reached the man already?

The woman, Bridget, put a glass and a pitcher of water in front of Alex. He nodded his head at her and poured himself a glass, taking small mouthfuls of the water. He put down the glass and concentrated on the man in front of him. The man caught his eye and smiled yet again.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? My name is Roelof Unger. I believe we have an acquaintance in common, a Mr. Kurst?”

Alex nodded. Funny how he got more information about the mysterious man in three minutes of meeting him than the agents who were sent to spy on him could gather in weeks.

“Yes. I believe we could talk... business.”

Roelof inclined his head.

“Indeed we could. But not yet. You look tired, I hope your trip wasn’t too stressful?”

Alex chuckled, “If you count spending the entire trip locked up in a trunk as relaxing then I guess it was quite comfortable.”

Roelof’s expression changed in a matter of seconds.

“That simply won’t do. You’re our guest, Alex, and you should be treated with respect.”

Alex shrugged.

“Trust me, compared to some of my previous experiences this was rather luxurious. He got me food and water, too.”

“If you say so. Why don’t I have someone show you up to your room so you can rest a bit. I have some business to attend to, I will be back after four o’clock, we can talk then.”

“Sounds good. Any parts of the house I shouldn’t enter?”

The man laughed and shook his head.

“Feel free to explore as you wish. No secret laboratories here. But I do insist on having someone look after you, if you don’t mind. For your safety. Mr. Kurst isn’t too happy about you coming here, you see. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” Unger’s smile was beginning to creep Alex out.

“I can take care of myself, Mr. Unger.” Alex fought not to fidget in his seat. He really needed to use the loo.

“Please, call me Roelof. I call you Alex, after all.” Unger narrowed his eyes. “And yes, you can actually take down a rather powerful organized crime cell as well, which is another reason why I want you looked after.”

“It’s your house, Roelof, so it’s your rules.”

“Wonderful. Bridget! Would you mind sending my bodyguard here?”

Alex opened his mouth to argue only to be cut off.

“I insist. He is quite the best and I want you protected until we can talk, Alex. Do agree, it will take a load off my mind.”

He had no other choice than to agree. He nodded his head and stood up from his chair. He bent down to pick up his backpack and heard someone enter the room.

“Now, I believe you will take good care of Alex while I’m away.”

Alex straightened and looked up at the newcomer. He took in a sharp breath, his eyes widening at the sight of the tall, lithe redheaded man. But what captured Alex’s attention the most were the man’s eyes. Ice-cold blue irises started at Alex without a hint of emotion.

“Of course.“

Alex gasped.

Yassen Gregorovich was alive.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex could feel his knees go weak at the sound of Gregorovich’s voice. One of his hands fell flat on the table to keep him steady. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him. He was so sure Yassen had died that day onboard Air Force One. He was so sure, so damn sure. That surety was the only thing that helped him cope with what Yassen told him before he died.

“You…”

“Ah, it seems you know each other?” Unger looked between the two of them with a knowing smile. “Splendid, makes it easier and less awkward. Yassen, why won’t you show Alex up to his room. I have to be off, I’m afraid. Have a nice day.”

Unger left the room without sparing them a glance. Yassen hadn’t moved and neither had Alex. He couldn’t move, or speak. There were so many things going through his head at that moment but he couldn’t voice any of them.

Finally Yassen raised his head higher and nodded it towards the door.

“Come, Alex.”

By some miracle he made his limbs obey Yassen. His legs carried him towards the man and he inhaled deeply as he passed him. The smell of spice and gunpowder surrounded Yassen and Alex had to close his eyes. For some reason he never thought the smells would go together but they just seemed to fit. He stumbled a bit and Yassen’s hand shot out to grab his elbow to steady him.

“Seems like riding in the boot does not agree with you. The bathroom’s there, hurry up.”

He pointed Alex to a small bathroom just off the kitchen. Alex sighed in relief, reaching for the door handle, only to have his wrist caught by Yassen. He looked at the older man questioningly.

“Give me your bag.” Yassen’s hand left his wrist, instead taking hold of Alex’s backpack. He released it and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He relieved himself, washed his hands and face, grimacing at his reflection in the mirror. Ireland was cooler than England but he still felt sticky and gross after being in the boot for so long, after the day he had in London. He wondered if he could chance having a shower.

“Alex.”

Yassen’s voice came through the door. Alex’s hands gripped the sink until his knuckles turned white. Of all the things he expected, seeing Yassen Gregorovich alive was not one of them. He wasn’t sure if he could face the man, less so be under his watch for however long it took him to achieve his mission.

“Don’t make me open the door.”

Alex closed his eyes briefly and took in a fortifying breath. He exited the bathroom and let the older man lead him up the stairs and into one of the rooms. Alex counted four doors in the corridor before he was pushed inside the room that smelled like Yassen.

“You will be staying with me. You can put your bag in the wardrobe.”

He did as he was told. He stood numbly in the middle of the room and took it in. There was a built in wardrobe, a desk with a chair by one of the walls, a bookcase filled with books next to it. And then there was the bed. The double bed. The only bed in the room.

Alex knew there were other things he needed to concentrate on. Like the fact that the world’s deadliest assassin was standing alive, just a few feet away from him. Or the fact that Roelof Unger was one creepy man who was too polite to be up to anything good. Or the fact that he was in Ireland and the only person who knew about that was Smithers who helped him get away from Blunt’s men. 

But the only thing his mind seemed to concentrate on was the fact that he would have to share the bed with Yassen. He was never so happy to be a hormonal teenager, which could be an explanation enough, at least to himself.

It’s possible he was just a little bit in shock.

“Sit down.” Yassen gestured towards the bed.

“You’re alive.” The words that were stuck in his mind left his mouth without his permission.

Alex turned to look at Yassen fully. The man looked just like he did the last time Alex saw him. Only he wasn’t as pale or covered in blood. He was still lithe, graceful, with features that were too mesmerizing for Alex’s peace of mind. He was dressed in a pair of well worn jeans and a black T-shirt. He crossed his arms in front of him and smirked at Alex.

“Astounding powers of observation.”

That made Alex snap. He moved closer to Yassen, his finger coming up to point at him accusingly.

“Fuck you. I nearly died because of you. Several times!”

The smirk slid off Yassen’s lips. He uncrossed his arms and let them fall along his body. He leaned in, intent on intimidating Alex.

“Watch your language when you speak to me. I do not take well to disrespect.”

Alex narrowed his eyes and jabbed his finger into Yassen’s chest.

“Don’t tell me what to do. I listened to you once and have scars to prove that it was the wrong decision.”

Yassen leaned in closer, until Alex could feel his breath on his cheek and remembered that day on the helipad. Yassen smiled coldly, his fingers coming up to wrap around Alex’s wrist and squeezing. Alex could feel the pressure on his bones but didn’t try to wrench his hand away.

“Had you listened to me the first time you would not be in this situation now. You made your bed.” He cocked his head to the side, a small quirk gracing his lips. “And you shall sleep in it.”

Yassen moved before Alex could react. He threw the teen on the bed, his knee centred on Alex’s chest, his hands pulling Alex’s arms around the headboard. He held them in one of his hands as the other one rummaged through his nightstand. Alex started struggling, trying to throw the man off him but Yassen wouldn’t budge. Alex felt something cold encircle both his wrists and there was a click. Yassen moved his hands to Alex’s shoulders and put pressure on them. His knee moved from Alex’s chest to rest on his legs.

“You will do well if you listen to me now. I do not know what your game is but know this: do not trust anyone here. Even me.”

“Let me go, you bastard!”

Yassen’s left hand moved from Alex’s shoulder to his mouth. His hand clamped around it painfully, making him unable to speak.

“This is not a place for little boys. Do not trust anyone and you just might survive. Nod if you understand me.”

Alex gazed up at him mutinously and nodded. Yassen still didn’t remove his hand from his mouth.

“You will not make any problems for me and I will not make any problems for you. Contrary to what Unger told you, you are not a guest here. You are a prisoner. Just because your prison is fancy does not mean it is safe.“

Alex glared at Yassen.; did he think Alex was an idiot?

“Unger is not a stupid man, he knows you have something he wants and he does not want Kurst to get to you before him. That is why you will not leave my sight, understood?“

Alex nodded his head again. Yassen looked at him a few seconds longer than strictly necessary before he pushed off the bed and released Alex’s mouth.

“Now be quiet. We can talk later.“

Alex looked as Yassen took the chair and turned it to face him. He sat down and reached out for the book that was lying on the nightstand. He opened it as if nothing out of ordinary was going on.  
Maybe nothing out of ordinary wasn’t going on. Alex wasn’t sure if it wasn’t standard for Yassen to have teenagers handcuffed to his bed on a daily basis.

“Close your eyes and rest. Nothing will happen.“

“I know,“ he replied as he closed his eyes.

Alex wasn’t sure if he would be able to rest, not after everything that has happened in the span of the last forty-five minutes. His thoughts were still in an uproar, too much information and too many questions swirling through his mind. He took a deep breath and got a lungful of Yassen’s scent. He kept on taking deep breaths and before he knew it, he fell asleep.

*

He woke up some time later to see that Yassen seemingly hadn’t moved from his position.

“What time is it?”

Alex winced at the hoarseness of his voice.

“Just after eleven. Unger will be home soon.”

Alex nodded and looked up at the head board. “Think you can uncuff me?”

Yassen put down his book after marking the page. He took out a key from his jeans pocket and leaned over Alex, his hands stretching to open the lock on the handcuffs. They gave away with a click and Alex let his arms fall down on the bed with a sigh. He tried flexing his fingers a few times before he could feel the blood flowing back to them. This was going to sting like a bitch, he thought as he glared in Yassen’s direction. He stretched on the bed and felt his right ankle bump into something on his other leg. He looked down and saw a black plastic band around his left ankle. He let his head fall back with a thud.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Yassen said nothing, just went up to the window to look out of it. Alex sat up on the edge of the bed slowly, his arms full of needles and pins.

“I’m just going to - ” he waved at his body and towards the door.

Yassen looked at him and nodded. Alex took that as a go-ahead, leaving the bedroom. There were three other doors in the corridor, two closed and one slightly open - that was the bathroom. He closed the door before Yassen could even contemplate following him. After relieving himself he washed his hands and looked in the cabinet above the sink. There was a small pair of scissors for cutting nails and Alex decided to give it a try. He grabbed them and propped his left food on the toilet. He put the scissors to the plastic band and tried cutting it without result.

He gave up with a frustrated sigh and put the scissors back in the cabinet. He looked at the shower longingly but decided against it for now. Unger was playing the perfect host so Alex didn’t think he would be banished to the dungeons anytime soon. And he really didn’t want to test Yassen’s patience.

Okay, maybe he did, he thought as he leaned over the sink and rested his forehead against the mirror. But he also wanted answers and Yassen said they would talk later. Now was later enough, he decided.

He opened the door to find Yassen waiting for him in the entrance to his bedroom. Alex shrugged and walked back in. He sat down on the bed and looked up at Yassen.

“How did you survive?”

Yassen went back to his chair. “A few Scorpia agents have infiltrated MI6 and managed to get me out of the hospital.”

Alex brushed his hand through his hair. Well, that was rather simple. So Yassen definitely wasn’t Blunt’s inside man. He furrowed his brows, no, that would be too easy. Too ridiculous. Scorpia would never let Yassen live if the MI6 ever laid their hands on him.

“Why did you send me to Venice?”

“I had hoped you would follow your father’s footsteps.”

Alex laughed bitterly. “Oh, it seems I have. After all he was a spy for the MI6.”

“No, Alex, he wasn’t. He was killed by MI6.”

He looked up at the man in front of him. Was it possible that Yassen truly didn’t know what happened?

“No.” Alex shook his head. He didn’t know how Yassen would react. He was angry at him, yes, but he knew he had to tell Yassen the truth. After all, Yassen was the only person in his life who had never lied to him. He bit his lip, hesitating, the words coming out slowly. “I saw the recording. I saw his notes. It was Ash who killed him. He planted a bomb on the plane my parents took to France.”

“Ash?”

Alex nodded.

“He and Rothman told me. Tried to kill me at the time, they didn’t think I would make it through.”

Alex watched Yassen closely. His expression didn’t change but Alex could see the way his jaw clenched, the way he looked paler than he did just a second ago. Alex suddenly became aware of tension in the room, cursing himself. If Yassen was to lash out at him - 

“So he was playing me all along.” Yassen said so softly that Alex wasn’t sure he heard him correctly.

He looked out of the window before replying. Would telling Yassen the whole truth make it even worse? In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

“He tried to make MI6 agree to let him take you with him. They said no.”

He kept on looking through the window. For some reason he couldn’t bear to look at Yassen right now. He didn’t want to know what was going on in the older man’s head.

 _In a way, I loved him._ The words came back to him even though he tried to resist them. He took in a deep breath, then another. He was on a mission here. He needed to learn who they were targeting, he needed to get the information to Blunt and then he would disappear. How he would do that, he had no idea, but he would manage. Didn’t Ash say he had the luck of the devil?

“I guess you are your father’s son, then.” Yassen’s voice was cold, emotionless.

Alex sighed. “I wish people would stop comparing me to my father.”

Yassen said nothing to that, letting silence stretch between them until Alex felt antsy. "You said Unger should be back soon?”

Yassen nodded.

“We can go down and get you some food before you talk to him.”

“Okay.”

Alex got up from the bed and moved towards the door.

“Thank you.” Yassen’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t dare turn around. “For telling me.”

He put his hand on the knob and squeezed until his fingers turned white.

“You’re welcome.”

*

Alex and Yassen sat in the dining room, each of them with a bowl of soup and a plate with a sandwich and crisps. They ate in silence, as no topic seemed safe enough. They looked up when they heard Unger come into the room.

“Ah, potato and leek soup. Bridget is quite the marvellous cook, isn’t she?”

He took a seat opposite of Alex and after a minute or two Bridget appeared carrying a plate and a bowl for him. He inhaled the smell and smiled.

“How was your morning, Alex?”

“Very... quiet, thank you. How was your business?” He watched as Unger opened his linen napkin and put it in his lap.

“Very busy.”

Alex had the urge to roll his eyes but he knew it would cost him. So he nodded his head and went back to eating.

“I believe Yassen has fitted you with your... bracelet?”

Alex scowled as he looked at the Russian.

“He did, yes. He didn’t explain it, though.”

Unger tutted at Yassen and took a sip of his soup.

“It’s simple. You can’t go further than ten meters away from him. If you do, you’ll get a rather nasty shock. Hurts, I have been told.”

Alex’s grip on his cutlery tightened. That bastard.

“I see.”

“Yes. But it’s fortunate that you already know each other. Helps to avoid the awkward silence. I’m sure you two will be able to get along well.”

Highly unlikely, Alex snarked inwardly as he thought back to their fight in the bedroom this morning. He glanced towards Yassen but the man was infuriatingly emotionless, as usual.

“We can retire to the living room once you’re done, Alex.”

The teen looked at his plate and finished his meal. He put his cutlery on the plate and sat back.

“Thank you, that was good.”

Unger smiled and stood up.

“Indeed. Follow me, please.”

Both Alex and Yassen stood up and followed Unger. They entered a lavishly decorated room. Unger took the only armchair in the room; Yassen and Alex were forced to share the couch.

“I believe you wanted to talk business, Alex.”

The teen nodded.

“We both have our problems with MI6. How about we help each other out?”

“Mmm, do go on.” Unger waved his hand at him in a permissive gesture.

Alex took in a deep breath and hoped he was convincing enough. After all, he was telling the truth, if only part of it. “I want to sever my ties with them. I want to disappear but not before I deal them a blow or two. I believe you wanted to target them once upon a time?”

Unger smirked.

“Indeed. Once upon a time. Why would I be interested in it now?”

Alex shrugged. “No idea. But yet, here I am, a guest in your house. Something tells me this is not how you usually treat people who want to do business with you. And definitely not how you treat people you don’t want to deal with.”

“True. You, Alex, are much more than a business associate. I believe you can help me with something. And it would, indeed, bring down the MI6 as well. What do you say?”

Alex leaned in, his elbows supported on his knees.

“That I want to know more.”

“I will tell you more once I’m sure of your intentions. Is there anything you can tell me to show your good will?”

Alex grimaced and chanced a quick look at Yassen who was looking at him with an alarming intensity. He cleared his throat.

“Um, well, I don’t know that much. Just the operations I have been to and the people I have worked with.”

“Then how do you plan on helping me, hm?”

Alex closed his eyes. This was a snap second decision and he knew he had to make it. He had to show Unger that he was willing to cooperate.

“There’s an MI6 mole in Scorpia. Not high enough to be able to know your identity but high enough to have seen you and Kurst in France and Colombia.”

Unger tapped his fingers on the side of his armchair. “How do you know that?”

Alex swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. Half-truths always work best.

“I have a... friend in MI6 who is looking out for me. He kept me updated on Scorpia ever since I ah, came back from Malagosto.”

“Interesting.”

Alex closed his eyes and nodded. He wasn’t sure Unger was buying what he was saying. How could he convince him? Appealing to his pride might do the trick.

“That is all I know. That was how I knew I had to find you or Kurst. Surely you would want some kind of revenge against the organization that brought you down.”

The sudden chill in the room made him realise he chose the wrong words there. He tensed and opened his eyes to see a furious looking Unger in front of him. He felt Yassen shift closer to him and that didn’t help, either. He still didn’t know if the man wanted to kill him or not.

“And why shouldn’t I take my revenge on the person directly responsible for that, hmm, Alex?”

His eyes darted around the room frantically, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. He stupidly left his Glock in his backpack. He was sure that it was confiscated by Yassen by now. He swallowed, his eyes on his shoes.

“Because that would be admitting you can be beaten by a teenager. I didn’t want to do what I did. I just wanted to get out. They promised me I would after that mission.”

“And you still want out?”

“Yes.” He did. He absolutely did.

Unger was looking at him as if trying to read his soul. Alex hoped he was believable enough. Because right now, at this moment, he didn’t want to get out. He wanted to stay right here, right now where he was feeling more alive than he had felt in months.

“And what made you finally look for us?”

He licked his lips nervously. He didn’t have to fake the emotion behind this answer.

“They deported Jack.”

Unger looked confused, so he hurried to explain.

“Jack is my legal guardian after my uncle died. They deported her yesterday. Had the social service come for me.” He picked at the hem of his T-shirt. “I managed to escape and get in touch with the man who brought me here. I am done with Blunt and his manipulations.”

Unger sat back in his armchair, the chilly atmosphere mellowing out. Alex felt Yassen relax slightly next to him.

“So if I promised you a new identity and a way to go back to live with your Jack, you would be... amenable to help me out?”

Alex looked up at that. It sounded eerily similar to what Blunt had offered him. 

“Yes. Yes, I would help you.”

“And you would never try to insinuate yourself in either intelligence services nor the organized crime world? You would never show up on our radar again?”

He nodded his agreement.

“I see.” Unger pressed his hands together in front of his chest, pointer fingers straight, the other fingers interlocking. He brought his fingers to his chin, tapping it, letting them sit in silence until Alex had to fight the urge to squirm. “Let me think about it. I will talk to you tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse me,” he said as he got up from his armchair.

Yassen and Alex watched Unger walk out. Alex turned to look at Yassen who again was emotionless. It miffed him - he wanted to do something to see a reaction register on Yassen’s face.

“Let’s go for a walk, Alex.”

That surprised him but he got up and followed the older man out of the house. He took in a deep breath. The weather here was a little colder than in London and he could breathe freely without feeling like he was about to choke. He followed Yassen as they came up to a gate.

“Babysitting, Gregorovich?”

Alex looked to the side to see a man in his early twenties smirk at Yassen. He had a cocky attitude about him and Alex momentarily knew the man wouldn’t live long. He sat on a stool by the gate, a gun tucked into his waistband.

“Indeed. This here,” Yassen said, reaching back and putting his hand on the back of Alex’s neck to bring him forward, “is Alex Rider. The boy who single-handedly took Scorpia down not once, but twice before.”

The young man laughed loudly.

“Good one, good one! As if that was true!”

The hand on Alex’s neck tightened briefly. He told himself the shiver that ran through him was because of fear. Nothing else.

“Remember that big fiasco in Indonesia? The blow up in Venice? You must have heard the rumours.”

The young man nodded.

“Yes. Alex caused that.” Yassen exalted, and if this was a different situation, Alex would have thought he was proud. “He has this pesky habit of causing trouble wherever he goes. So indeed, I am babysitting. Just in case he tried to take us down for the third time. And mark my words, he would make sure that Scorpia would not rise again.“

The young man finally looked at Alex who was impassive all throughout the exchange. The guy seemed to get the message, finally, as he stood up to open the gate.

“Better you than me.”

Yassen said nothing as he pushed on Alex’s ahead. The teen obeyed, once again, and moved forward through the gate. Yassen kept steering Alex as they walked alongside a road, his hand on Alex's neck, preventing him from running.

“Was that true?”

Alex looked up at Yassen questioningly.

“They deported your guardian?”

Alex nodded. “It was for the best, I guess. She doesn’t have to worry about me now.”

Yassen made a sound that strangely resembled a snort. Alex ignored him.

“Yes because it is so easy to stop worrying about you. Kurst will be back tomorrow. Do not underestimate him. He does not like you too much ever since you foiled his plans.”

“I am aware,” Alex snarked back.

“Do not leave my sight. This is an order and you will listen, Alex,” the hand Yassen still had on Alex’s neck tightened painfully, sending another bout of shivers down Alex’s back.

“Why should I?”

“Because,” Yassen leaned in, his breath hot on Alex’s ear, “you idiot child, I am trying to keep you alive.”

Alex stopped walking. They were standing in a secluded area off the main road, shielded from the road by a line of trees. Alex still could hear the cars in the distance.

“And what happened to not trusting you?”

Yassen smiled coldly. “At least you remembered that. Good. Do not trust me.”

“But do as you say?”

Yassen nodded.

“That makes no sense.”

“It does not need to make sense.”

*

Later that evening, Alex came out of the shower and cursed under his breath. He forgot to take a change of clothes with him, too preoccupied figuring out how to get more information from Yassen, or anyone, really. He looked at the sweaty clothes he peeled off before stepping into the shower and wrinkled his nose. He ran the towel through his hair and decided it would have to do. He tied it around his waist and gathered the dirty clothes in his arms. He walked out of the bathroom and took a deep breath before entering their bedroom.

Yassen looked up from the book he was reading. He raised an eyebrow and Alex could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Forgot my clothes,” he mumbled and tossed the dirty ones into his bag. He crouched and rummaged through his backpack. He found a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

He looked up and saw that Yassen was still observing him, a smirk playing on his lips. Alex could feel the warmth of his blush spread down his neck and his chest and he sprinted back to the bathroom. He cursed himself under his breath as he put his clothes on. He wouldn’t be embarrassed about that, he decided and walked out of the bathroom with his head held high.

He entered the bedroom to see that Yassen moved from his spot on the bed to stand beside the table.

Alex plopped down on the bed and noticed a vodka bottle in Yassen’s hand. Yassen looked at him and smirked. He sat down on the chair by the table and poured himself a shot of vodka.

“Na tavoje zdravjie, Alex!”

He threw the shot back in one gulp and Alex was impressed. His eyes followed the graceful line of Yassen’s neck as it bowed back. Alex swallowed and licked at his lips. Yassen caught that and his gaze became more predatory.

“Have you ever drank vodka?”

Alex shook his head. He felt so young, inexperienced... childish.

“It is quite strong. Leaves the most awful aftertaste in your mouth.”

“Then why do you drink it?”

Yassen smirked and put down the shot glass. It clinked as it collided with the table. He stood up and crossed the room, his posture screaming power and control. Alex’s breath sped up and he craned his neck to look up at Yassen. The older man leaned in, his lips brushing Alex’s earlobe as he laughed. Goosebumps erupted down Alex’s neck, making him shiver, a spark of warmth igniting in him.

“Because I can, little scorpling, because I can.”

He closed his eyes, clutching the bed covers on either side of his legs. Yassen stayed bent over him for a few more seconds and Alex could hear him inhale deeply. 

“Come, I shall be your first.”

Alex startled, looking at Yassen in alarm. The ginger smirked, gesturing towards the vodka.

“Your first drinking partner, Alex.” He walked back, reached for the glass and poured a measure into it. 

Alex stayed frozen on the bed, tracking Yassen’s progress through the room. He couldn’t move, couldn’t shift without putting pressure on his stiffening cock. Christ, this was torture. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Yassen came back to him, the shot glass held in his manicured fingers but Alex couldn’t uncurl his hands from the bed covers. He glanced between the glass and Yassen a few times until Yassen stepped in closer.

“Open your mouth,” Yassen said softly, his gaze on Alex’s lips.

Alex let his lips fall open, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his mouth suddenly very dry. It had nothing to do with Yassen’s proximity, or the undercurrent of tension between them, he told himself.  
Yassen pressed the glass to his lips, tipping it forward until Alex was forced to open wider, his lips covering the rim of the glass. His other hand moved to cup Alex’s jaw, his eyes hot on Alex’s skin. He kept his eyes open as he tipped his head back, letting Yassen tip the vodka into his mouth. The burn down his throat was nothing compared to the fire burning deep inside of him. Yassen hummed as Alex swallowed, his thumb moving to wipe a drop of vodka that escaped the corner of Alex’s lip.

“Good boy.”

Alex couldn’t hide the shiver that wracked his body at that. Yassen removed his hand, his nails scratching Alex’s jaw before retracting. He walked back to the table, poured another shot of vodka and downed it in one go, his lips covering the glass the same way Alex’s did. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Alex couldn’t stop looking at his back, the way his muscles shifted in his shoulders, their outline visible even through the cotton T-shirt. He was so acutely aware of Yassen’s body, his scent in the room, the feeling of his calloused fingers on Alex’s skin, he could hardly bear it.

“Another?” Alex was surprised to find himself speaking. It was a stupid idea, one of the worst ones he’s ever had, by far. 

In no time at all Yassen was back with another shot of vodka, the cool glass pressing against Alex’s lips. His other hand stayed by his side, curled into a fist. Alex closed his lips around the glass, his eyes never leaving Yassen’s. Wasn’t it just a few hours ago that he wanted to see a reaction from the man? He never thought that seeing his lips wrapped around a shot glass would be what did it.

Yassen tipped the glass and Alex drank, sputtering as it burned his throat. The glass was removed from his lips as he coughed and he felt the back of Yassen’s fingers brush against his Adam’s apple.

“Enough. Go to sleep.” Yassen’s voice was slightly hoarse as he moved back to the chair and picked up his book.

Alex uncurled his hands from the bed covers. “Uh, where will I -”

Yassen raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem sharing a bed with me, Alex? You can always take the floor.”

Alex shook his head. “No it’s - it’s fine. Good night.”

He moved awkwardly to his side, scooching up against the wall, his back to Yassen. He took in a few deep, steadying breaths, thinking about Blunt in the nip, having his shoulder dislocated, crocodiles snapping at him, anything to make his erection go away. Slowly, incrementally, he managed to relax enough to fall asleep, after what felt like an eternity.

He did not hear Yassen turn over a page even once before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Na tavoje zdravjie, Alex!" - to your health; cheers


	4. Chapter 4

Alex spent the next two days with only Yassen and Bridget around. Unger had to leave in a hurry and took Kurst with him before Alex even had the chance to see the man. He was getting restless and bored out of his mind. He tried snooping in Unger’s room but it ended pretty quickly after he strayed ten meters away from Yassen and ended up yelping in pain at the electric shock. Yassen found him on the floor of Unger’s bedroom, raised his eyebrows and refused to help Alex get up. Alex spent the rest of that day staying close to the assassin.

It didn’t help that the only thing he could think about was that first night, drinking with Yassen. He feared the morning after would be an awkward experience, but apart from a headache, it wasn’t too bad. He was still ridiculously aware of Yassen’s presence but the Russian pretended like nothing happened. Alex wasn’t sure whether he was happy or disappointed about that. 

He had to get some information and soon. He had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to deliver it to Blunt, though.

“So. Planned any terrorist attacks lately?”

Yassen looked up from his book to glare at him. Alex grinned back, unrepentantly. He discovered it annoyed the older man and while he usually avoided doing that he felt like he wanted to see how far he could get. And if it resulted in Yassen’s hands on him, well, all the better.

“Is that a no? That’s why you are in such a bad mood?”

Yassen closed his book and turned his full attention on Alex.

“I believe I told you something about respect the first day you got here. I do not like repeating myself.”

Alex kept the grin on and stretched lazily, his T-shirt riding up to show a patch of his lower stomach.

“Yes, well. It seems you haven’t left that much of an impression on me.”

There was a glint of something dangerous in Yassen’s eyes as he stood up from the armchair and crossed the short distance to sit down besides Alex on the sofa.

“It seems another stint in handcuffs should help you remember. I believe the floor will be quite uncomfortable.”

Alex laughed. “Really? You’re trying to scare me by telling me I will sleep on the floor?“

Yassen’s hands shot to wrap themselves around Alex’s neck. He applied slight pressure as he leaned in, his fingers covering Alex’s neck with ease, hot against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“I am not trying to scare you, Alex. I am telling you what is going to happen.” He cocked his head to the side, looking at his hands on Alex’s throat, his fingers pressing and releasing, turning Alex’s skin red and white in turn. “If you are too stupid to be afraid of me then it is your problem, not mine.”

Alex gasped, his nails clawing at Yassen’s hands, trying to pry them off his neck. Yassen applied a little more pressure and Alex struggled to take in a breath.

“Do not test me, little one. My patience has its limits even when it comes to you.”

He squeezed his hands around Alex’s neck harder, until spots started appearing in the corner of his vision. Yassen released his grip suddenly, Alex gulped in a breath of air, coughing on the exhale. He could feel Yassen’s fingers still around his neck, holding it as he got his breath back, his thumbs caressing Alex’s Adam’s apple. Alex looked at Yassen, his eyes filled with reflexive tears; Yassen looked mesmerised at the sight of his hands around Alex’s neck. 

Alex realised his hands were still on Yassen’s wrists, warm skin covering strength and control Alex could only dream of. He squeezed his fingers around Yassen’s wrists, breaking his concentration. Yassen’s hands dropped to his lap and despite everything Alex felt a keen sense of loss when his fingers fell limply into his own lap.

Yassen got up from the couch and walked back to his armchair, sat down, took up reading his book as if nothing happened. Alex was gasping loudly, the air whooshing in and out his tortured throat. The nerves in his body were singing, gloriously alive and he missed the feeling of Yassen’s hands, the warmth of his body, the intensity of his whole being concentrated on Alex.

He knew he was playing a dangerous game. This was Yassen Gegorovich in front of him, one of Scorpia’s finest, the man who killed his uncle. And yet Alex seemed to have forgotten that. He allowed himself to get comfortable around the man for the past day or so. He got too relaxed with the knowledge that Yassen was keeping him alive.

He trailed his fingers around the bruises that were sure to show up on his neck. Just because Yassen opened up to him in what he thought to be his last moments didn’t mean the man wouldn’t kill him if he decided it was in his best interest.

Alex spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on the sofa, staring out of the window, his fingers tracing his neck.

*

Alex was surprised to see that Yassen wasn’t on the other side of the door when he came out of the bathroom after his shower. He shrugged his shoulders and headed into their room. He opened the door and found himself being spun around and pressed against the wall, a knife pressed against his neck.

“Mr. Blunt sends his regards,” a man’s voice breathed in his ear.

Alex struggled to throw the man off him and he managed to kick out and hit the man’s knee. He twisted and threw the clothes he had in his hands into the man’s face. The hitman never dropped his knife, ducking to the side as Alex threw his clothes at him. There was too little space in the bedroom for Alex to get an advantage. He took off from the room and down the stairs, hoping to get to a more spacious area where he could fight. 

In his urgency he slipped on one of the stairs, his foot losing balance and he tumbled down the stairs on his side, hitting his head painfully as it bounced on the steps. Tears immediately sprang to his eyes and he tried to get up as the pain numbed his senses. He forgot which side was up and which side was down for a second and when he looked up, the man who attacked him was coming down the stairs, knife in his hand. Alex hauled himself up with the help of the bannister at the side of the stairs and he nearly threw up as dizziness swept through him. He knew he had to get away, had to find Yassen.

The hitman reached for his arm and Alex yelled. Before he could swing his knife at Alex, he was hauled off. Alex saw Yassen stand over the man and grab the knife from his hand. The man tried to get up, one of his hands coming up to punch Yassen in the knee. The Russian kneeled down quickly and drove the knife through the man’s hand, nailing it to the floor. Alex could hear the sickening crunch of bone as it tore straight through. The man howled in pain and Yassen silenced him with a quick kick to the head.

Alex gave in and slid down to sit at the floor, the tears blurring his vision.

“Are you hurt?”

He opened his mouth to answer but only managed to throw up all over the carpet. Yassen sighed and helped him to his feet. The door burst open and the gate boy ran in, his gun at ready.

“What the hell is going on?!”

Yassen barely spared him a glance.

“Take care of this,” he nodded at the unconscious man. “I want to talk to him later, so keep him alive.”

“Sure.”

“And get someone to clean this up,” he pointed at the mess Alex made as he started walking up the stairs.

“He okay?”

Alex grimaced at the loudness of his voice.

“He will be fine. Concussion, maybe bruised ribs. Nothing too serious.”

Alex begged to differ but he was too afraid to open his mouth again. Yassen dragged him up the stairs, helped him into the bathroom and propped him by the toilet seat.

“Do not move too much, it makes the nausea worse. I will be back in a minute.”

Alex rested his head against the toilet seat. Jack would have his hide if she saw him do that. But Jack wasn’t here. She was in the States, away from him, safe. Safe, like Sabina and Tom. 

Alex closed his eyes as his vision swam. They were safe and he was here, in the house of the enemy, getting attacked by an agent sent by the same man who sent him on this mission. Things really didn’t add up, he thought. Like Smithers buying him ice cream. That really didn’t add up. Why would he do that?

“Alex?”

Alex groaned.

He heard Yassen sigh and come closer to him.

“I need to take your shirt off and check your ribs.”

Alex grimaced. That was going to hurt like hell. Worse than the pins and needles he had after Yassen handcuffed him to the bed. But not as bad as getting shot, he decided. No, this was somewhere in the middle.

He felt Yassen hike his shirt up his torso and he made to move his hands up but another wave of nausea came over him. He heard Yassen mumble something to himself in what he thought was Russian.  
The toilet seat felt wonderfully cool against Alex’s skin. He sighed as the nausea passed. He heard a ripping sound and tried to move his head to see what was happening.

“Do not move. I just cut through your shirt, could not take it off otherwise.”

Alex furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of the words.

Cool fingers probed at this side and he hissed in pain at the tenderness. The fingers pressed more firmly and swept along his side.

“No breakage or fracture, that is good.”

He tried to take in a deep breath and groaned in pain.

“You got banged up pretty badly. Trouble follows you around, doesn’t it, little scorpling?”

Alex felt himself being picked up slowly. Even that made his head spin and he groaned. A while later he was placed down on a soft bed that smelt like a safe place. Alex sighed and let his mind drift.

*

Someone was gently shaking his arm. He opened his eyes slowly to see Bridget stand above him with a concerned expression.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“Dizzy,” he croaked. “Thirsty.”

She brought a glass up to his lips and helped him take a few sips. His head was spinning still.

“D’ya remember what happened?”

Alex closed his eyes.

“Someone attacked me and I fell down the stairs. I vomited on the carpet. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about that. Go back to sleep.”

Alex obediently closed his eyes.

*

He remembered being woken up a few more times before he finally woke up on his own. He was laying in the bed, his back pressed to the wall. Alex opened his eyes to see that Yassen was in bed with him, deeply asleep. The room was dark, so he guessed it was night. He wasn’t sure how long he was out.

He watched Yassen as he thought back to the message delivered by his attacker. It seemed Blunt wanted information. But why would he send someone to kill Alex if that was the case?

Unless he did it to keep Alex’s cover, in which case he sacrificed his agent and knew fully well what would happen. Or maybe Blunt thought Alex was turning away from him and sent someone to get rid of Alex before he could become a liability to the MI6...

His eyes mapped Yassen’s face. The long red eyelashes framing the closed eyes. Full pink lips that were slightly parted as Yassen breathed in and out. Alex was transfixed by the sight, committing it to his memory. No matter what happened, he knew he would remember the way Yassen looked while asleep, the way he smelled. To say that sharing the bed with Yassen was torture was an understatement.

“Stop that.”

Alex was startled by Yassen’s voice. His eyes darted to look at Yassen’s eyes and sure enough, they were open now and looking at him.

“Sorry.”

“How do you feel? The truth, Alex,” Yassen brushed his apology away without a word.

“Better. No longer dizzy. My ribs still hurt though.” He moved his hand to press against his ribs, wincing at the touch.

“That was to be expected.”

Alex licked his lips before asking the next question.

“Who was he?”

Yassen’s gaze was fixed on his lips and he didn’t reply. Alex bit his lip, feeling that tingling, fiery sensation singe his nerves again.

“Yassen?”

The man looked up in his eyes quickly and Alex remembered how he looked at him with such intensity before, that first night.

“MI6. Seems that was the mole you told us about.”

“He said Blunt sent his regards.”

Yassen reached out to trace the fading bruises around Alex’s neck. Alex shivered at the touch, his skin erupting with goose bumps. Yassen’s fingers stroked Alex’s skin and he couldn’t help but let out a breathy whimper.

Yassen’s hand stilled and Alex blushed.

“So – “

“It is okay. Only natural,” Yassen cut him off and moved his hand away but not before one last caress. “Unger and Kurst are back. They want to talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright. How long was I out?”

“Just a day. You said that man said Blunt sent you his regards?”

Alex nodded.

“It seems he decided your mission was a failure, then.”

Alex tensed at Yassen’s words. He looked the man in the eye and hoped he could pull the bluff off.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

It was Yassen’s turn to nod.

“Of course not,” Yassen replied, his voice mocking.

“Listen, Gregorovich, if you think I’m here on Blunt’s orders then you are wrong.” Alex poked him in the chest. Yassen caught his finger in a firm grip.

“Am I, little Alex?”

Alex cursed him in his mind.

“Yes.”

Yassen propped himself up on his arm and leaned in close to Alex. They were so close Alex could taste the breath from Yassen’s mouth. He was enveloped in the man’s scent and he knew he would have a rather embarrassing reaction on his hands in a moment.

“So Blunt did not offer you full emancipation and the chance to join your guardian in the States after you bring him the information he desires?” Yassen released his finger, instead trailing his hand up Alex’s arm to his shoulder, tracing his collarbone, dipping underneath his torn shirt.

Alex went rigid. They knew. He wouldn’t be able to walk out of this one. He didn’t mind failing the mission before he took it. But now, he minded very much. He felt alive and he didn’t want to die. He had to find a way to get out of this situation and he acted on instinct, leaning in closer to Yassen and pressing his lips against the older man’s.

He hoped he would catch Yassen off guard but the man reacted quickly. His hand came up to cradle Alex’s head, his hand fisted in Alex’s hair. Yassen sucked his lower lip, his teeth scraping it until Alex moaned and felt Yassen’s tongue push in, his embarrassing reaction now fully embarrassing. Yassen swiped his tongue around Alex’s mouth, licking his palate and making Alex whine at the feeling. Alex never thought kissing could be like this, like he was being devoured, like Yassen wanted to kiss him until the kingdom came.

His own hand moved to clutch at Yassen’s shoulder, his fingers tightening around the material of his T-shirt. He needed to be closer to the older man and tried pressing himself against Yassen’s front but a pain filled groan ripped through him.

Yassen released his mouth and breathed heavily through his mouth. Alex stared at his lips, red and wet and he leaned in again but Yassen tugged at his hair painfully to stop him.

“You have not answered my question, little Alex.”

Alex’s eyes darted back up to Yassen’s. He looked confused for a second before stiffening again.

“Yassen, I –”

“Do not lie to me.”

Alex nodded and Yassen’s hand relaxed his grip on his hair. He splayed his fingers over Alex’s skull.

“He did offer all that. But so did Unger. One way or another, I’m going to get what I want.”

Yassen laughed mirthlessly. “What did I tell you about trusting people?”

“To not do it. Not even you.”

“Do you know why I told you that, Alex?”

Alex shook his head, wishing Yassen was still gripping his hair, so he could feel that delicious pain again.

Yassen moved Alex to lie on his back and he propped himself over the teen. Both of his hands came to rest at Alex’s throat, his fingers fitting the bruises they left a few days ago.

“Because what you want and what I want won’t always be the same. But I take care of what is mine.”

Alex nodded and swallowed nervously. Yassen’s eyes darted to his neck, his thumbs coming to rest over Alex’s Adam’s apple. His thumbs pressed slightly and Alex took in a startled breath. Yassen seemed to be admiring the way his hands fit over Alex’s neck.

“So from now on you will listen to me. Without a question.”

Alex’s eyes widened as he understood what Yassen meant. He swallowed again, Yassen’s thumbs following the motion of his Adam’s apple, before he replied.

“Yes.”

*

Alex came down the stairs with Yassen behind him and turned towards the sitting room. He entered and saw that Unger already occupied the armchair. Kurst sat on the couch, leaving a space for Alex to sit down. He swallowed nervously and sat down, nodding at the two men in greeting. He felt Yassen stand behind him, his hands coming to rest at the top of the couch just a little space away from Alex’s neck.

“So good of you to join us, Alex.”

“Sorry it took us so long to meet again, Mr. Kurst,” Alex offered.

Kurst curled his lip in disgust. 

Unger waved his hand distractedly.

“Don’t mind Zeljan, he’s in a bad mood. Now, it seems your information about the mole was quite accurate. Your friend at MI6 was indeed right.”

Alex inclined his head and waited for the man to continue.

“Now, I believe we can help each other. We can supply you with a new identity and a ticket to the States, as I previously said. In return, we need you to do something for us.”

“And what’s that?” He had a few ideas in mind, things he thought Unger would ask him based on what Alex knew.

“We have been dropping hints about the corruption in the government all over the media. Did you know your Prime Minister used our services once to get rid of a political opponent?”

Alex shook his head.

“Mmm, yes. Well, we were employed to destroy the current government. And what better way to do that than a live broadcast of a teenage boy who was sent to spy on terrorists in Cairo... but who was caught and was made to spill all his secrets over live TV.”

Alex took in a shuddering breath. That sounded eerily like what that journalist wanted to do, years ago.

“Ah, I believe it reminds you of a Mr. Harry Bullman? Yes, the journalist.”

“How…?”

“We make it our business to be interested in what happens to you, Alex.”

Kurst snorted at that but quieted under Unger’s gaze.

“He had the right ideas... But the wrong methods. It was quite sad to see how your government nearly drove him mad,” Unger said with badly concerned humour.

“What do you mean?”

“They stole his identity. Gave him another one. Made his real one disappear, claiming he was dead. They matched his fingerprints to those of a serial killer and sicked the police on him. Poor man nearly lost his mind in that interrogation room before a MI6 agent showed up to talk him into leaving you alone.”

Alex sat there, his mind pacing furiously. If they did that to a publicly known man like Bullman then how easy would it be for them to negate his emancipation...? He felt the side of Yassen’s hand press against his shoulder and was brought back to the conversation.

“I... I had no idea they would do that.”

“I know, Alex, I know. But you see, Mr. Bullman was on the right track. I believe that a broadcast of you spilling your secrets... well, that would have quite an impact on the British audience.” Unger leaned in towards him.

Alex looked from Unger to Kurst, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“How can I know you are telling the truth? That this is all you need, that you won’t kill me in the end?”

Unger shrugged his thin shoulders. He smiled and his eyes looked terrifying.

“You will have to trust us, won’t you?”

“Right. Of course.”

Unger nodded his head.

“Take a few days to think it through, Alex. We have time. But not too much, yes?”

Alex saw the dismissal for what it was and got up. He nodded at the men and left the room, Yassen following him closely. They climbed up the stairs and entered their room. Yassen closed the door and watched Alex pace for a while. Alex stood by the window and looked out, deep in thought. Yassen came up to him and placed his hand on the back of Alex’s neck.

“Stop it.”

Alex relaxed immediately and leaned back into the pressure Yassen’s hand.

“We both know there is no getting out of this. Tell him tomorrow.”

“But I can’t trust him.”

Yassen stood closer to him, his chest brushing Alex’s back.

“No, you can’t.”

“Then what - ”

Yassen pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“You trust me.”

*

The next day went by too quickly for Alex. Too soon he was back in front of Unger and Kurst, agreeing to their terms. They seemed satisfied enough – at least Unger did.

Kurst still looked at Alex as if he wanted to squish him underneath his shoe. Alex wanted to see him try.

“Very well. The transmission will go live in four days.”

“Anything I should know?”

Roelof smiled slightly and waved his hand. “Nothing for you to worry about. We have it under control.”

Alex hesitated before asking the question that’s been running through his head. “If you are going to destroy this government... Who will be in power?”

Unger laughed as if Alex asked the funniest thing on Earth.

“I don’t know, and don’t really care. I was paid to take it down, not to put a new government in.”

“So that’s why you do it? Because you were paid?”

Unger inclined his head. “Gold. It’s what makes the world go ‘round, Alex.”

*

“Stop fidgeting.”

Alex sighed from his spot on the sun chair in the back garden. Easy for Yassen to say, he was reading yet another book - Alex had no idea Yassen liked reading that much. Since Yassen was reading, Alex was left to his own devices and there wasn’t much to do. He was never really into solitary pursuits even before becoming embroiled with MI6. He tried picking up one of the books Yassen had finished but found them boring as hell. Classics, economics, sociology - none of those were subjects he would find interesting. 

He couldn’t work out, with his ribs still being painful whenever he took in a deeper breath. If he started thinking about Unger’s plan, he became an anxious, fidgety mess. If he started thinking about the fact that he and Yassen were… whatever they were, he became an aroused, fidgety mess. And that only led to remembering the way Yassen kissed him last night, hands wide on Alex’s back, gripping his hips as he hauled Alex on top of him, palming his ass…

Alex squinted as something blocked the sun. Yassen stood above him, his sunglasses on top of his head. He placed his hands on the arms of Alex’s chair and leaned in. “You’re distracting me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re distracting me.” Alex glared back at Yassen.

“Oh? And how am I doing that, little Alex?” Yassen’s left eyebrow rose on his forehead.

Alex swallowed. He couldn’t tell Yassen what he was thinking about, could he? It was embarrassing. He wasn’t used to well, any of this. His last dating stint lasted exactly one date and yeah, they did make out but it was nothing like what Alex experienced with Yassen. He wished he was more experienced, more confident so he could -

A small smile appeared on Yassen’s lips. It looked… Alex swallowed again. Yassen looked mischievous. Fuck.

“Are you, perhaps, remembering how I kissed you goodnight last night?” 

Alex shook his head. Yassen’s smile widened and, lightning fast, he straddled Alex in the chair. He pitched his voice low and soft, so that Alex had to lean in to hear him. “Are you remembering how difficult it was for you to fall asleep, all worked up?”

Alex shoved at him weakly. “Jesus, Yassen, Bridget will-”

“She went shopping with Cian, they won’t be back for a while.” 

Alex blinked. “Cian?”

“The man guarding the gate. He is the driver around here,” Yassen explained, settling himself more comfortably in Alex’s lap. “Now, how, exactly, am I distracting you?”

“You’re in my lap, for one.” He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He put them on Yassen’s thighs, feeling the tight muscle under the denim. He wasn’t batted away, so he presumed it was okay.

“Ah, but I was reading just a minute ago,” Yassen pointed out.

Alex avoided his gaze, feeling his cheeks warming under Yassen’s perusal. Like hell was he going to tell Yassen what was going on in his head.

“So you were remembering.” Yassen’s finger brushed his cheek, travelling down his jaw, his neck, until it caught on the collar of his T-shirt. He leaned in and placed a kiss under Alex’s jaw, his teeth scraping at the bruised skin. “You look good with my bruises on you.”

There was no helping the moan that escaped Alex’s lips, or the way his hands tightened on Yassen’s thighs, fingers digging in. His skin felt like it was on fire where Yassen was touching him, the weight of him in Alex’s lap a delicious way to prevent him from squirming enough to ease the pressure on his hardening cock. He knew that he was fucked up for finding this, whatever it was, so damn hot. He couldn’t stop imagining having Yassen’s hands all over him, leaving bruises in their wake, the way he would be able to touch them and feel the pain and remember.

“Yassen,” Alex breathed out, his hands moving up Yassen’s thighs, over his hips, feeling the firmness of his flanks. 

Yassen removed his hands, grabbing the bottom of his T-shirt and hauling it off over his head, knocking his sunglasses off in the process. He threw the T-shirt to the side, uncaring and Alex couldn’t stop staring.

Yassen’s shoulders were covered with freckles.

His hands moved to Yassen’s shoulders, feeling the soft skin under his palms, the well-defined muscle, the heat of him. Alex let his hands slide down Yassen’s chest, covered in red hair, scratchy against his fingers. Alex always knew Yassen was attractive, but having him so close was intoxicating.

His fingers found the scar on Yassen’s left pectoral, small and white. He ran his fingers over it, feeling the unevenness of it, how thick it was on the edges and giving in the middle, where the bullet meant for him pierced Yassen.

“You never said thank you.”

Alex looked up at Yassen, his mouth open slightly, his breathing heavy.

“For taking that bullet for you,” Yassen elaborated.

Alex’s mouth was dry. He cleared his throat, his fingers flexing against Yassen’s chest.

“Thank you,” he said, hoarse. 

He couldn’t stand the intensity of Yassen’s gaze on him, so he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in and pressed his lips to the scar over Yassen’s heart, Yassen’s fingers tangling in his hair. Alex let his lips trail up to those wonderful freckled shoulders and finally up to Yassen’s neck, where the wicked scar Alex’s father gave him resided.

He could hear Yassen breath out harshly, fingers flexing in Alex’s hair, pressing him more firmly against his neck. Alex licked at the scar, wondering if Yassen had any feeling in it, if it was as sensitive as some of Alex’s. He closed his teeth around the scar tissue and shuddered at the moan that escaped Yassen’s mouth.

Alex tightened his teeth on Yassen’s neck and sucked. Strong fingers gripped his hair and pulled him away, making him whine in protest. His eyes strayed to where his mouth was just seconds ago, Yassen’s neck reddened and slick with spit. 

“Of course you get brave now,” Yassen chuckled against Alex’s lips.

Alex strained against the fingers in his hair and leaned in to kiss Yassen, teeth and tongue, all urge and little finesse. Yassen let him, bringing their bodies closer together. Alex ran his fingernails down Yassen’s back, scratching at smooth and scarred skin alike until Yassen hissed and pressed more firmly against him. He could feel Yassen’s cock against his stomach.

“Please,” he panted into Yassen’s mouth when they broke up for air.

“Please what, little Alex?” Yassen licked at the shell of his ear, sucking his lobe, scraping his teeth on it.

“Touch me.” He thrust his hips up against Yassen, not caring if he was too needy, too forward, too anything. All he wanted was Yassen’s hands on him, Yassen’s lips, his taste. “Please, _Yassen_.”

Yassen reached for the bottom of Alex’s T-shirt and threw it to the side. His fingers mapped Alex’s scars, as if to mimic Alex’s touch. Alex shivered, his whole body moving against Yassen’s. He moaned at the feeling of skin on skin, hid his face in Yassen’s shoulder.

“More,” he whimpered against Yassen’s skin, mouthing at his freckles.

Warm, steady hands reached for his shorts, flicking the button open, pulling the zipper down. The back of Yassen’s hand brushed Alex’s cock, as he reached in to pull him out. Alex groaned at the feeling of cool air and Yassen’s warmth around him. He was already leaking, trying to thrust into Yassen’s hand but pinned down by his weight.

“Oh, please, please, please,” he babbled as Yassen explored his cock, running the tip of his finger up his length, around the head of his cock, outlining the head. He never thought it would be this intense, having someone else touch him like this. Maybe it was because this was Yassen, the man whose memories and scent Alex wanked to religiously ever since he met him, ever since that day back on the helipad.

Yassen fisted his cock, his grip tight and hot. “Look at you,” he murmured in Alex’s ear. “So eager, so needy. I knew you’d be like this.”

Alex moaned, his hips fucking up into Yassen’s tight grip. He threw his head back, banging it on the wooden back of the chair, his naked chest pushing closer towards Yassen. He hissed suddenly when Yassen pinched one of his nipples, rolling it between his fingers until the pain became heat, adding to his arousal.

Yassen’s thumb swirled around the head of his cock, smearing the precome down his length. Alex was so close, he could feel his balls pulling up tight to his body. His senses were overwhelmed with Yassen’s touch, his scent, his voice. He was nearly there, at the edge but he needed something _more_...

“Remember what I told you, Alex?” Yassen asked as he pulled slightly away, looking at Alex’s face. His other hand released Alex’s nipple, trailing up to Alex’s neck. 

Alex shook his head, panting open mouthed.

Yassen fit his hand against the bruises he left there, squeezing slowly but steadily, until Alex was gasping for breath, dark spots appearing in his vision. 

“I take care of what is mine.” Yassen leaned in, breathing over Alex’s lips, his hand fast and tight on Alex’s cock. “And you, Alex Rider… You are mine.”

And just like that, Alex came, his hips stuttering, spilling over Yassen’s hand, his come splattering on his chest and stomach, gulping air as Yassen’s grip on his throat slackened. Yassen kept stroking him through his orgasm, until Alex whined at the feeling of calloused fingers over his over-sensitised flesh.

Alex opened his eyes, groaning at the sight of Yassen opening his jeans and taking his cock out, fisting it roughly, smoothing the way with Alex’s come. He was thick and long, at least to Alex who hasn’t seen that many people naked. He licked his lips, wondering what it would feel like to have Yassen in his mouth. 

“Shit,” Yassen swore, his gaze on Alex’s lips, his thumb following the path of Alex’s tongue.

Emboldened by his musings, Alex caught Yassen’s thumb between his lips and sucked, swirling his tongue around it. Yassen’s speed picked up, the sound of skin on skin loud in the quiet, isolated garden. Yassen pulled his thumb away and before Alex had the chance to miss it, Yassen ran two of his fingers through Alex’s come and brought them to his lips.

“Suck.” Yassen’s voice was breathless, his eyes never straying from Alex’s mouth.

Alex opened his mouth, the scent of his own come strong in his nose as Yassen slid his fingers in, just the tips, until Alex closed his mouth around them and sucked. He could taste salt, both of his own come and of Yassen’s sweat. He moaned leaning in, taking Yassen’s fingers deeper into his mouth, until he could feel Yassen’s knuckles at his lips, the tips of his fingers pressing against the back of Alex’s throat. 

He could feel Yassen rocking in his lap, the rhythm more and more frenzied and felt his own cock twitch with interest. He sucked Yassen’s fingers, pushing his tongue between them, licking at the webbing between the digits, scraping his teeth over the joints of Yassen’s fingers, wishing fervently it was Yassen’s cock instead.

Yassen moaned, his grip tightening, his hips stuttering as he came, his hand working himself furiously through his orgasm. Alex kept sucking his fingers, gentler now, as Yassen sagged against him, Yassen’s forehead on Alex’s shoulder, those glorious freckles right in Alex’s line of sight.

They sat like that, the silence punctuated by harsh breaths, until Yassen groaned and straightened, stretching his back and shoulders, bringing the scar on his pectoral right in front of Alex, who leaned in to press his lips to it. 

“Are you still mad that I distracted you?” Alex grinned up at him.

“Watch it, brat,” Yassen replied, tucking himself back in his jeans. He reached for Alex’s T-shirt and used it to clean them up.

“Hey!” 

Yassen smirked, grabbed his own T-shirt and threw it in Alex’s face. “Get dressed, best we get inside before the others come back.”

Alex groaned as Yassen got off his lap and put on the older man’s T-shirt, not being subtle at all about sniffing the collar of it once he had it on. It wasn’t that embarrassing, really.

*

Too soon, the morning of the broadcast came. Yassen shook Alex awake, his hand moving to cradle Alex’s head as he watched Alex wake.

“Get ready, we have to leave soon.”

Alex sat up in the bed and stretched. He could feel Yassen’s gaze follow his movement and smirked to himself on the inside. He got out of the bed and grabbed a T-shirt and his jeans and moved towards the bathroom to change.

“We do not have time for that. Just change here.”

Alex nodded and took off his boxers, throwing them into the bedding. He pulled on his underwear and jeans and moved to put his shirt on when he moved too quickly and grimaced in pain. His ribs still acted up from time to time if he moved too quickly. He repeated the moves, slower this time, and managed to put his T-shirt on. Yassen nodded at him, already at the door.

Alex followed him down the stairs and into the dining room. Bridget smiled at him and motioned for him to sit down and eat. Alex did so gladly, happy that neither Unger nor Kurst were present.

“They went ahead. We will follow them as soon as we are done with breakfast.”

Once they were done Yassen ushered him straight outside and into a car. Alex sat in front and looked back to see his backpack already there.

“Yassen?”

“Wait.”

Alex shut up and nodded. He looked outside his window and noticed the cityscape pass by them. Yassen motioned towards the phone attached to the windshield.

“Call Smithers.”

Alex had wondered how Yassen had known about his mission and it seemed he finally got some answers. He took the phone out of its holder and dialled Smithers’ number. Once he got the first signal he put it on the loudspeaker.

“How are you, my boy?”

“Been better, but I’ll live.”

“So I hear. Alan is quite upset about that, I have to tell you.” Smithers chuckled on the other end.

Alex looked at Yassen sharply. The older man nodded.

“I was a decoy then?”

“Afraid so. He hoped, quite foolishly, that giving you to Scorpia would make them, ah, back down. Didn’t happen as he planned though, did it?”

“No, it didn’t.” Alex closed his eyes. So that was it. He had been played once again. He should have known better.

“Thank you for your help, Smithers.”

“A pleasure. Say hello to your friend and tell him my debt is repaid in full now.”

The boy looked at Yassen quizzically.

“That it is, Mr. Smithers,” the Russian said, his eyes on the road.

“Take care, then. Ta!”

The phone call disconnected and Alex kept looking at Yassen questioningly.

“Long story, for some other time. We are nearly there.”

Alex shut the phone off and put it back in the holder. Yassen entered through an open gate and headed towards what looked like an abandoned building.

“Do not wander too far from me.”

The teen rolled his eyes, as if there was anywhere he could go. The car slowed down and came to a stop in front of the entrance to the building. Once they stopped, Yassen reached for Alex, hauling him in for a kiss, teeth and tongue, heavy like a goodbye. Alex panted and looked at Yassen questioningly.

“Remember the garden, Alex. Can you do that for me?” Yassen’s thumb caressed his cheek, sending shivers down his spine. He nodded.

They got out of the car and walked in.

“You’re on time. Fantastic. Now, Alex, please follow Felicia, she will work on your look. Yassen, a word if you please,” Unger ordered them around, barely sparing a glance towards Alex.

Unger took Yassen in the opposite direction of where Alex was supposed to be heading. He started moving to follow Yassen when Felicia grabbed at his arm.

“This way,” she pointed to the other side of the building.

“Ah, I can’t.” Alex pointed to his ankle and then to Yassen. “I must be within five meters of him or I get shocked. That won’t help you, I’m sure.”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Fine. You go near them, I’ll grab my kit and get to you.”

Alex nodded and followed Yassen and Unger. He sat a few meters away from them and looked around the building. It was run down and the walls were cracked in places. He guessed it could be mistaken for Cairo after some work. He looked to see if Felicia was on her way when he heard a snippet of Yassen’s and Ungers chat.

“Once he is done filming the scene, shoot him.”

Alex looked to see Unger hand Yassen a gun. Alex sucked in a breath, surely...

“Aim for the head. I want him to be a good example of what happens to those that cooperate with the British government.”

“Of course.” Yassen’s reply was steady, like he knew this would be asked of him.

Alex’s blood ran cold. A shot in the head. Yassen was supposed to shoot him, right there and then. He was startled by Felicia who grabbed him and turned him around to face her. She made a tutting noise and started working on his makeup. He was supposed to look as if he was starved and kept in bad conditions for the past ten days.

He felt Yassen come up behind him.

“What was that about?”

“Your ticket to the States,” the man replied easily and Alex’s heart stopped.

Yassen had told him he wasn’t to be trusted and yet Alex trusted the man. It was his own bloody fault. He was going to die. He could run, right now, be shot in the back. He could make it difficult on them, he could make them torture him on the broadcast. He could protect MI6 - but why would he? 

“We will have to break your nose naturally, I’m afraid,” he heard Felicia said and he nodded numbly.

She motioned for one of the guards milling around and asked him to break Alex’s nose. The man didn’t think twice about the request and simply swung his fist at Alex’s face. It impacted with a crunch and Alex was blinded with pain. He could feel Yassen catch him and steady him from behind and he cursed out loud.

He no longer had a reason to protect MI6. He no longer knew how to live a civilian life. He only felt alive when he was on a mission and he knew that he could no longer work for Blunt. He could not join Scorpia, either. Jack would move on, he knew. She was strong.

“C’mon,” he heard the guard.

He looked up and saw he was being motioned to move to sit in an old wooden chair. He did as asked and the guard did a quick job of duct taping his hands together behind him. Alex looked at Unger who looked at him coldly. Gone was the pleasing exterior and all Alex could see was a man with eyes that didn’t suit his face.

They all knew he finally figured it out. He had been played by both MI6 and Scorpia. If he was to go out, he would go out with a bang, not a whimper. He closed his eyes against the brutal truth.

He had been played by Yassen all along.

*

Alex sat in the chair, blood dripping slowly from his broken nose down his lips and chin. His hands were bound by duct tape, his arms resting over the back of the chair, crossed at his wrists. He looked straight at the camera, at the people behind it. He knew what he had to do and he didn’t want to take any more time. He opened his mouth, a little hoarse cough escaping him.

“My name is Alex Rider. I’m seventeen years old. For the past three years I have been spying for the British government against my will,” his voice was steady and dead.

He spoke about all the missions he was sent on, all the people who died in the process. He gave up the names of the people he came in contact with during his MI6 times without hesitation. He was of no use to them now anyway and he knew what that meant. He knew what he needed to do. So he kept on describing the past few years in a detached voice. He couldn’t save himself but he could take Blunt down with him.

“Your government is stealing from other countries, negotiating with terrorists, involved in human trafficking, illegal arms trade. Those are only the things I have learned on my own. Ever since my guardian’s death I have been blackmailed into working for MI6.” He stopped, closed his eyes. God, he was so stupid. “My family was threatened, my objections were ignored, as were my concerns. They sent me into dangerous situations without any backup or weapons. I was left on my own because I’m a teenager and no-one would suspect me to be a spy. This was sanctioned by Alan Blunt, the man who was my handler.”

He took in a deep breath and looked away from the camera and into the blue eyes of his soon to be executioner. Blue eyes met him without any emotion and Alex had to stop the sob that wanted to crawl out of his throat.

“I was cautioned to stay away and I wanted to but it was not my decision. I was forced into it. Who knows when the MI6 will come for your children?”

The man started back emotionlessly. Alex tore his eyes away from him and looked back at the camera.

“Don’t let them win. Don’t let this be for nothing.”

He could imagine the gasps of understanding as it came to people. He was sure they were staring at their screens in horrified fascination, transfixed by his tale and what was to come. 

Alex took in a shuddering breath, his throat working frantically to swallow the saliva that didn’t come. He was starting to shake in fear. The duct tape pulled on his forearms, tearing the hair away. He could feel sweat gather under it, stinging mercilessly. He licked his lips and decided he would go out with dignity. It was the last thing he had, for this brief moment. They took that away from him before but he found it when he was speaking. 

Like Yassen asked, Alex thought back to the garden, Yassen’s skin under his lips, Yassen’s hands on him. It was cold comfort but he would take it.

The assassin moved closer and aimed his gun at Alex’s head. Alex looked in the man’s eyes for the last time and he remembered his words from what seemed a lifetime ago.

_I do not kill children._

Alex smiled shakily at the irony and closed his eyes, waiting for the bullet to impact with his head. He was no longer a child. And didn't they keep on telling him that you're never too young to die?

*

Yassen Gregorovich took in the teen in front of him and did something he has never done before. He looked away as he pulled the trigger of his gun.

*

The camera was switched off after it filmed Alex’s bleeding body for a few more seconds.

“And that’s a wrap!”

Unger looked at Yassen with distaste.

“It seems you got attached to the boy after all. Pity. I clearly told you to aim for the head. But either way he is of no concern anymore.”

Yassen nodded his head.

“I believe that means we are even, Roelof?”

The man nodded and waved his hand.

“Even, all debts cleared and forgotten.”

Yassen holstered the gun. He looked at Alex’s body for a while. “I will get rid of his body.”

Unger nodded as he walked away.

“Do whatever you want.”

Yassen was counting on that. He stalked up to Alex’s body and scooped him up from the chair. The teen felt like he weighed nothing in his arms, even unconscious. Alex’s blood was seeping through, staining Yassen’s green T-shirt black.

As he fell, Alex cracked his skull on the ground. Yassen could feel the sluggish bleeding staining his upper arm, where Alex’s head rested. He hoped Alex was unconscious before the pain of the gunshot wound registered.

He paid no attention to the people he passed on his way out. He managed to open the back door to his car with Alex’s body still in his arms. He laid the teen down and smoothed his hair away from his forehead.

“I hope you can forgive me, little scorpling,” he murmured as he closed the back door and got into the car. He made a U-turn and drove out of the property. He headed north towards the airport.

**September 2004**

Yassen walked up to the gravestone, empty handed.

There were many bouquets laid in front of the simple grey stone. Bright like the teen – young man – whose grave he was visiting.

_Alexander Rider  
13.02.1987 – 15.07.2004  
Always Missed, Never Forgotten._

He laid the flowers down and stared at the stone in front of him. His lips quirked in a sarcastic smile. He was sure Alex would be old news even in three months’ time.

“Thank you for coming,” he heard a woman’s voice.

Yassen turned around and nodded. Jack Starbright looked beyond sad. Her eyes and nose were red and puffed up, her hair matted, her skin dull.

“What can I do for you, Miss Starbright?”

She took in a deep breath and looked him in the eye. It obviously took some courage from her to look into the eyes of the man who, to the best of her knowledge, killed her Alex. She was holding a postcard in her hand, with a picture of Fira on it. Yassen held in a sigh. Of course.

“Tell him I understand. I will miss him but it’s for the best.”

No emotion crossed his face, his hands didn’t tremble as he replied, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Jack cleared her throat awkwardly and looked at the ground. She shuffled her feet and looked around her. He noticed she was picking at the skin around her thumb nail nervously.

“Right. Of course, sorry. I... I’m sorry, this was a mistake.”

Yassen nodded yet again. “Indeed, it was.”

Jack nodded jerkily and turned around to leave. Yassen let her walk away a few steps before calling out to her in a steady voice. She tensed her shoulders, her posture screaming grief and confusion.

“It’s the safest outcome. For everyone involved.”

She didn’t turn around like he expected her to. Instead she straightened her posture and walked away from him.

It was better that way.


End file.
